the worship of the many-breasted Cybele; down that very slope of grass dotted with violets had rushed the howling, naked priests beating their discordant drums and shrinking their laments for the loss of Atys, the beautiful youth, their goddess’s paramour.  Infidelity again!—­even in this ancient legend, what did Cybele care for old Saturn, whose wife she was?  Nothing, less than nothing!—­and her adorers worshiped not her chastity, but her faithlessness; it is the way of the world to this day!

The bells ceased ringing; I descended the hill and returned homeward through a shady valley, full of the odor of pines and bog-myrtle.  On reaching the gate of the Signora Monti’s humble yet picturesque dwelling, I heard the sound of laughter and clapping of hands, and looking in the direction of the orchard, I saw Vincenzo hard at work, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the shoulder, splitting some goodly logs of wood, while Lilla stood beside him, merrily applauding and encouraging his efforts.  He seemed quite in his element, and wielded his ax with a regularity and vigor I should scarcely have expected from a man whom I was accustomed to see performing the somewhat effeminate duties of a valet-de-chambre.  I watched him and the fair girl beside him for a few moments, myself unperceived.

If this little budding romance were left alone it would ripen into a flower, and Vincenzo would be a happier man than his master.  He was a true Tuscan, from the very way he handled his wood-ax; I could see that he loved the life of the hills and fields—­the life of a simple farmer and fruit-grower, full of innocent enjoyments, as sweet as the ripe apples in his orchard.  I could foresee his future with Lilla beside him.  He would have days of unwearying contentment, rendered beautiful by the free fresh air and the fragrance of flowers—­his evenings would slip softly by to the tinkle of the mandolin, and the sound of his wife and children’s singing.

What fairer fate could a man desire?—­what life more certain to keep health in the body and peace in the mind?  Could I not help him to his happiness, I wondered?  I, who had grown stern with long brooding upon my vengeance—­could I not aid in bringing joy to others!  If I could, my mind would be somewhat lightened of its burden—­a burden grown heavier since Guide’s death, for from his blood had sprung forth a new group of Furies, that lashed me on to my task with scorpion whips of redoubled wrath and passionate ferocity.  Yet if I could do one good action now—­would it not be as a star shining in the midst of my soul’s storm and darkness?  Just then Lilla laughed—­ how sweetly!—­the laugh of a very young child.  What amused her now?  I looked, and saw that she had taken the ax from Vincenzo, and lifting it in her little hands, was endeavoring bravely to imitate his strong and telling stroke; he meanwhile stood aside with an air of smiling superiority, mingled with a good deal of admiration for the slight active figure