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oath."

He took a letter from his coat-lining, and gave it me with a
trembling hand, beseeching I would destroy it the moment I had read
it.

"Stop," I cried, opening it; "I will read and destroy it while you
are here."

"But, sir, you must answer it, and I cannot stop now. Do it at your
leisure. Only take heed, when you hear any one coming, you will
know if it be I by my singing, pretty loudly, the tune, Sognai mi
gera un gato. You need, then, fear nothing, and may keep the letter
quietly in your pocket. But should you not hear this song, set it
down for a mark that it cannot be me, or that some one is with me.
Then, in a moment, out with it, don't trust to any concealment, in
case of a search; out with it, tear it into a thousand bits, and
throw it through the window."

"Depend upon me; I see you are prudent, I will be so too."

"Yet you called me a stupid wretch."

"You do right to reproach me," I replied, shaking him by the hand,
"and I beg your pardon." He went away, and I began to read

"I am (and here followed the name) one of your admirers: I have all
your Francesca da Rimini by heart. They arrested me for--(and here
he gave the reason with the date)--and I would give, I know not how
many pounds of my blood to have the pleasure of being with you, or
at least in a dungeon near yours, in order that we might converse
together. Since I heard from Tremerello, so we shall call our
confidant, that you, sir, were a prisoner, and the cause of your
arrest, I have longed to tell you how deeply I lament your
misfortune, and that no one can feel greater attachment to you than
myself. Have you any objection to accept the offer I make, namely,
that we should try to lighten the burden of our solitude by writing
to each other. I pledge you my honour, that not a being shall ever
hear of our correspondence from me, and am persuaded that I may
count upon the same secresy on your part, if you adopt my plan.
Meantime, that you may form some idea, I will give you an abstract
from my life."--(It followed.)



CHAPTER XXXIV.



The reader, however deficient in the imaginative organ, may easily
conceive the electric effect of such a letter upon the nerves of a
poor prisoner, not of the most savage disposition, but possessing an
affectionate and gregarious turn of mind. I felt already an
affection for the unknown; I pitied his misfortunes, and was
grateful for the kind expressions he made use of. "Yes," exclaimed
I, "your generous purpose shall be effected. I wish my letters may
afford you consolation equal to that which I shall derive from
yours."

I re-perused his letter with almost boyish delight, and blessed the
writer; there was not an expression which did not exhibit evidence
of a clear and noble mind.

The sun was setting, it was my hour of prayer; I felt the presence
of God; how sincere was my gratitude for his providing me with new

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