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the triumph of perceiving he had humbled and wounded her soaring invincible spirit. She appeared to be reconciled to her fate; and, after some time, asked leave to visit the tombs of her ancestors. Some poor survivor of the massacre at the treacherous ingress of Acciolinus, had carried the body of Baptista to the cemetery of Blanca's family. She, with a lamp in her hand, and a countenance pale and mournful, explored the tombs like a troubled ghost, searching for the remains of the beloved lord of her affections and vows. She cast herself upon the putrid disfigured corpse, and, with the most passionate exclamations, strained it in her embraces—the footsteps of her attendants roused her from the agony of grief. She knew they were commissioned by her detested undoer to force her from all that now on earth could interest her widowed heart. She carried the relics of Baptista close to a ponderous tomb-stone—exerted all her strength—overturned the tomb-stone—an instant crushed her to death; and thus she joined in death the only object of her impassioned and faithful soul. Previous to the invasion of the French, this same enormous piece of wrought marble was shown to travellers as the grave of Baptista and Blanca; but their monumental pile is erected in the hearts of all generations that owe their birth to Padua. Acciolinus, like all wicked men, was