CATHERINA CANACCI.

AN ITALIAN STORY.-BY MISS HOLFORD.

There resided in Florence, in the commencement of the seventeenth century, a nobleman of the ancient family of Canacci, whose name was Giustino. This man had been happily married, and was the father of several children by his deceased wife; yet he continually regretted the felicity he had formerly enjoyed, and became so weary of his widowhood that he took the unfortunate resolution of endeavouring to renew his happiness by forming a fresh union, although he was now past sixty. The object selected for these second nuptials was in every point of view unsuitable: the grey hairs and half extinguished eyes of the venerable bridegroom seemed miserably assorted with the radiant smiling countenance, the fair bright tresses, and lightsome steps of the young and beautiful Catherina. To complete the imprudence of the infatuated Canacci, his fair bride was as far his inferior in condition as she was superior in personal attractions, the author of her birth being no other than an honest dyer; and, as the children of a first marriage are seldom friendly to the introduction of a stepmother, however plausible her claims may be, so the family of Canacci found their indignation at the step their father was resolved to take aggravated to the highest pitch by this degrading misalliance.

Catherina, meanwhile was one of those light-hearted mortals who care little who frown upon them. She considered the old count merely as the means by which she ascended to a pitch of wealth, splendour, and consequence, which a continuance in her own humbler class would have denied her, and as a convenient screen for those levities in which she determined to indulge without scruple or restraint.

Amongst those who profited by these liberal dispositions were two young Florentine gallants, called Lorenzo Serzelli and Vincenzio Carlini; and they, in process of time, intro

duced a third, of much more exalted rank and condition, the amiable and brilliant Duke Jacopo Salviati, who, for the sake of Catherina, neglected a beautiful consort of splendid race, and of a line whom it was not safe to offend or injure. Her name was Veronica Cibo, and her progenitors the Princes of Massa.

The duchess had unfortunately one quality capable of eclipsing all her graces and prerogatives. Women are accused of being too fond of the distinctions of birth, and especially conscious of noble blood; but the haughty arrogance of Veronica Salviati was beyond all example, and she looked on her fellow mortals as if all were equally unworthy to approach her. This lady, though she loved the man whose name she condescended to wear, could not, even for him, descend to the endearing and affectionate habits of domestic life; she could not for one moment divest herself of the arrogance which swelled her bosom and exalted her head; and she received his caresses with a sort of half disdainful acceptance, little flattering to the tenderness of a husband: in short, repulsed and chilled where his affections had the best claim on a return, Duke Salviati became gradually an indifferent spouse, a stranger at home, and a constant and welcome visitor in the mansion of Count Canacci, at least in that part of it which was dedicated to the use of the fair Catherina.

Salviati flattered himself that his haughty duchess was too much enveloped in her own conscious dignity to inquire into his proceedings, or vouchsafe to trouble her thoughts with his infidelities, even were she aware of their existence. He was deceived. Jealousy is furnished with innumerable eyes and ears: once awakened, it speedily becomes paramount to every other passion, and rages most furiously in the haughtiest breast, inasmuch as mortified pride rushes to the aid of disappointed affection. Veronica meanwhile was well informed of the fascination to which her husband had surrendered up his fancy. She did not stoop to reflect how she had lost or

how she might have retained the tenderness of her once ardently enamoured lord; she thought on Salviati only as a base and unworthy traitor, rebellious to a chain which he ought to have gloried in wearing; she looked upon herself as the most injured and insulted of ladies; and in the depth of her heart she harboured a dark and deadly scheme of vengeance against the Circe whose seductions had troubled the tranquillity of a daughter of the Princes of Massa.

Such were the meditations of the Duchess Salviati, when, happening to enter the church of San Pietro Maggiore, it so chanced that her detested rival had selected the same place and hour for her devotions. Being by no means personally strangers to each other, it is more than possible that the countenance of the fair Catherina wore or seemed to wear an air of saucy triumph; however that might be, the indignation which had been smothering in the bosom of the injured wife now broke forth with irresistible violence. She approached the cbject of her wrath, and, kneeling down beside her, whispered in her ear: "I command thee from this hour never to admit the scandalous visits of Duke Salviati. Thy life hangs on thy obedience. Dare admit him to one interview more, and dread the vengeance of an insulted wife!" Catherina provokingly replied, that she was perfectly willing to relinquish the duke's society, provided the duchess had sufficient influence to detain him; and that she could only advise her to exert her utmost attractions for that purpose; adding, that should they fail, and the duke persist in his admiration of her inferior charms, she would not promise to shut her door on so amiable and noble a visitor. The tone of contempt and derision which accompanied these words fell bitterly on the heart of Veronica: she uplifted her veil, and cast one withering glance on the imprudent Catherina; that glance conveyed a most eloquent and emphatic denunciation of vengeance, vengeance speedy and terrible.

Meanwhile the duke visited with more perseverance than ever the object of a passion which now possessed him with

uncontrollable violence. His whole soul was devoted to Catherina, his whole time consumed in the contrivance of new amusements for the light-hearted being who thus monopolized his affections, and he became equally indifferent to the feelings of his wife, or to the observations of the multitude.

The wrath of the duchess was thus led step by step to its climax, and she was only perplexed as to the means by which she might put her deadly design in execution. The silent agency of poison was her first resource; but by some chance her attempt proved unsuccessful. Resolved not to be baffled a second time, she at once adopted another method more desperate and more decisive. She sent her confidante to Bartolomeo and Francesco, the sons of Canacci, requiring a conference with them; she then artfully and forcibly set before them the dishonour of their father's house; assuring them that the well-known frailties of their stepmother reflected contempt and ridicule even upon them, who, being of an age to avenge themselves, could nevertheless tamely contemplate the ignominy of their family. If," cried she, " you are not yet made sensible that the injured honour of your name calls on you to cancel this foul stain in the blood of its author, I will no longer detain ye; but if ye possess such sentiments as ought to inhabit the bosoms of noble youths like yourselves, if you have courage to do justice on this wretch, and avenge by one courageous act your father and yourselves, then be assured of my powerful co-operation; and, as to the after consequences, I make myself answerable for your entire impunity. Should the deed ever be brought home to you, you will be regarded with esteem and admiration as the generous vindicators of your house."

This proposal was at first received by both the young men with horror and dismay; nor could Francesco be prevailed with to concur in the bloody enterprise farther than by swearing to conceal the overture he had received. Bartolomeo was persuaded finally by the arguments of the duchess to accept this horrible agency, and he set himself without delay to

collect the means of accomplishing his dark task, and to contrive the introduction into his father's house of those who were destined by the duchess to effectuate her scheme of vengeance. That implacable lady took into her service four ruffians, who held themselves in constant readiness to execute her commands at the first signal.

The fatal conjuncture arrived on the night of the 31st of December, 1638, and the act of vengeance was thus accomplished. Bartolomeo Canacci, about three o'clock in the morning, left the palace of the duchess, accompanied by his desperate agents, and went to the house of his father, who lived in the way of the colonnade near the Piazza of St. Ambrogio. Being arrived, the hired ruffians concealed themselves while Bartolomeo knocked gently at the door. Catherina's maid-servant looked forth from the window, and demanded who was there. Hearing the well-known voice of Bartolomeo utter the accustomed word " Friends," she instantly drew the cord. The door was no sooner opened than this ruthless avenger, followed by his four bloodhounds, entered immediately, and rushed furiously up the staircase. Catherina chanced at the moment to be solacing herself with the society of her friend Vincenzio Crlini. who, alarmed by hearing their violent approach and certain words of a menacing and appalling import, thought only of escape, which he effected with difficulty by means of a secret staircase which led out upon the roof, and from whence he contrived to obtain ingress into a neighbouring house. Arrived in the chamber of the ill-fated Catherina, these merciless butchers, regardless of the most piercing cries and affecting entreaties, barbarously murdered her; and, that there might be no witness of this scene of horror, her maid partook the miserable doom of that mistress of whose vices she had probably been the partaker and instrument.

Having done the deed, the assassins cut in small pieces the bodies of the two women, and, silently carrying forth their horrible burden, cast them into a pit which existed in the