Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 389: what you’re looking at

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AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. “— nn 381 career. He left the University, at which my father pay a visit to Florence. was no longer able to maintain him: he would not join us in England—he was afraid of becoming a burden upon whatsoever resources might remain at our command: he vowed that he would earn his own bread—and that if need were, he would even supply the wants of those who were dear to him. He became a valet in the family of a Flo- rentine nobleman; and from that family he shortly after passed into the service of a lady of rank, also residing in Florence—the Marchioness di Mirano. For some months poor Giulio regularly transmitted & sum of money: but all of a sudden remittances and letters alike ceased. This was in the month of February last. Yes—it is now upwards of seven months since we received any tidings from Giulio! My father has written to the Marchioness di Mi- rano—but has received no answer. Hence he con- cludes that her ladyship is utterly ignorant of what has become of Giulio, and wiil not condescend, or else will not take the trouble, to pen a few lines to this effect. And now, Miss, youcan understand why we entertain such misgivings in reference to poor Giulio, and why my father would look upon you as an angel sent from heaven if you would only assist him with the means to visit Florence and inquire what has become of his first-born.” “Oh, this I will most cheerfully do!” exclaimed Agnes. “ But has not your father written to any one else in Florence besides this Marchioness of whom you speak P” “He has written to the Minister of Police,” re- plied Corinna; “but his letter has experienced no better fate than the half-dozen which he has so entreatingly penned to the Marchioness. The Tuscan Minister will not condescend to answer a Neapolitan fugitive, whose name has been circu- lated throughout Italy in the same list with all the other leaders of the Camerino conspiracy.” “ And what—if the question be not an indiscreet one,” said Agnes,—“ what is your father’s name ?” “Paoli,” responded Corinna. ‘‘ But we were speaking of my brother Giulio. Ah! if you had ever seen him, Miss, you would not be surprised that we all used to feel as proud of him as we loved him. He was a perfect model of masculine beauty, with hair of raven darkness—yes, and even more soft and glossy than mine!” added Corinna, not speaking thus from any sentiment of vanity, but in the ingenuousness which wondered that the hair of a man should rival in delicacy of texture that of a woman. “Let us hope,” said Agnes, “that nothing serious has occurred to your brother, and that his silence will in due time be satisfactorily accounted for. I hope that he hag taken warning from his father’s example, and not engaged in any con- spiracies Y “This is by no means likely,” answered Co. rinna: ‘‘he is quite of a different disposition. But I am speaking of him as if he still lived: whereas, alas! I fear Here she stopped short; and again did the tears trickle from her eyes—while her brother and little sister clung to the tattered skirt of her dress, and looked in silent affliction up into her counte- nance. “ Do not apprehend the worst,” said Agnes. “ As I have already promised, the means shall be immediately forthcoming to enable your father to But I may possibly have it in my power to assist you in another manner. I have already told you that I have a friend hold- ing a diplomatic situation at the Neapolitan Courts I know that he will interest himself in anything wherein I may crave his intervention ; and at my request he would therefore write to the British Embassy at Florence and cause inquiries to be made relative to your brother Giulio.” “Oh, dear young lady !” exclaimed Corinna, “how can I possibly express my gratitude P— what will my father feel P—what will he say? Oh, Miss! you have infused joy into my heart ; and I now long for the return of my parent that I may communicate tu him how an angel has been in our humble cot!” ““Where is your father?” inquired Agnes: “and when do you expect him to return ?” “ Sometimes,” answered Corinna, with a blush mantling upon her countenance, “ my poor father obtains some little translations to accomplish—or he meets with refugee friends who are better off than himself But Oh, Miss! it is a sad, sad existence to lead !” “ Doubtless, my poor girl—and Oh, I pity you !” said Agnes, in a voice tremulous with emo- tion. “ Ab, Miss ! you would indeed pity us even more than the extent to which your commiseration now reaches, if you knew all!” resumed Corinna. ‘ But good God!” she suddenly exclaimed, “look at this hovel—this vile sordid hut in which we have been compelled to take refuge, and where we endeavour as much as possible to hide our rags and our poverty ! For we still have our little pride, Miss,’’ added the girl, her bosom swelling proudly and the big tears standing in her eyes. ‘“ We were gen- teelly born and tenderly reared; and Oh! even though for months past we have known this bitter, bitter penury, yet we are not so accustomed to i¢ as to diplay our rags with hardihood and confront the world with the brazen looks of utter despe- ration! But listen while I give you a few details. My father, though doing a large business, and deriving a respectable income from his affairs, was not a rich man: that is to say, he had very little in the shape of hoarded money—for his politics had often and often involved him in trouble, so that fines and amercements had periodically swept away whatsoever savings he accumulated. And then, too, the business of a notary was to lend money upon mortgage and other securities ; and thus when the sudden blow came at the com- mencement of last year, he was only enabled to flee from Naples with a moderate sum of money. My poor mother’s illness was a costly one, consider- ing our limited means; for my father spared no ex- pense to obtain the best medical attendance which the British metropolis could afford. Thus, by the time that my mother sank into the cold grave, our means were very nearly exhausted. My poor father went everywhere in search of employment: he was willing to do anything that was honourable in order to earn bread for his children. But you. may conceive how difficult it is for an Italian gen- tleman to procure any remunerative work in @ capital where in every counting-house doing busi- ness with foreign parts, there are competent clerke to maintain a correspondence in the different Con- tinental languages. Thus, Miss, as I have already CoOMmiclooolks