of womanhood. Delicately the wrin. kled hands draw the veil of love's incognito, and, though simple and pure in heart, the girl has a "ready wit and wholly understands." Commonplace enough is the plot that follows; the unlikeness which set it apart merely consists in the reiterated expression of that unsullied innocence of soul. For never through all the griefs and joys and catastrophes of her wedded years does Elena lose her springtime grace of childhood. The divine flames-to quote that most brazen of episcopal storytellers-illuminate her heart and therewith open the eyes of her mind, but to the very end she retains the untainted purity of her playtime. Nor is this a single example of Bandello's latent powers of characterization. Painted in colors more vivid, if not more distinct, is his portrait of Spanish Violante.1 The story (partially and inadequately reproduced in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Triumph of Death") is a narrative of savage revenge taken by a woman tortured into crime. Didaco Centiglia forsakes his low-born wife, Violante, and openly weds another bride. For three days Violante is as one stunned; she had loved him with an illimitable love she wept and wasted away in her misery. Then, "so that for the future it should be less easy for men to betray," she set weeping aside. It chanced one day, she, being at her window, saw her lost lover ride by. He, though abashed and with changed color, drew rein and greeted her. "Good morrow, madonna," is his light salutation. "How goes it with you?" "You give me good morrow with your lips," she answers, smiling, “but in truth you have given me a very sad day, and how it goes with me you know as well as I." A double traitor, that night he returns to Violante and perishes miserably-this honor alone she accords him-at her hands: "Tu ti potrai almen gloriare, che per mano d' una donna, che amasti, e ella te senza fine amava, sei morto." 1 Bandello, Parte I., Novella xlii. (Fourth story of translations.) The speech in which, self accused (not as fearful and sorrowing, but “allegra e valorosa") she confesses and vindicates her deed before the judge has a tragic pathos. Never does one forget that the man she has tortured and slain is the lover she, without limit, has loved. It is a masterpiece of dramatic vigor. Signor vicerè, you must know that more than a year ago Signor Didaco Centiglia, seeing that by no other way he could have my love, resolved to make me his wife. In the presence of my mother, my brothers, and Pietro, his servant, he wedded me at my own home, and for more than fifteen months shared my couch as my lawful husband. Then he, regardless of the fact that I was his lawful wife, only lately, as all Valencia knows, espoused the daughter of Signor Ramiro Vigliaracuta-though wife of his she is none, seeing that I was first married to him. Nor did this suffice him. Yesterday, as if I had been a woman of ill-life, impudently he visits me and pours a flood of lies into my ears, being at pains to make me believe that what was black was white. Hardly had he gone when he sent Pietro-whom you see here to tell me he would spend the night now past in my company. To this I agreed, for the way now seemed open for me to take such revenge upon him as I was able. Therefore, O most just signor, have I come here that you may know all from my lips. With denials or entreaties I have nothing to do, deeming it too great cowardice to fear punishment for an act done wilfully and of deliberation. That my honor is safe suffices me. Last night, my lord, spurred thereto by the injury received, I took such vengeance upon my husband as seemed meet for the wrong which out of all reason he did me. With these hands I drove from his vile honore tolto body his viler soul. Egli m' aveva, ed io a lui ho la vita levata. Ma quanto più si debba l' honore che la vita apprezzare, è troppo manifesto. tween such heroines as Violante and Elena and the puppets labelled good or evil of earlier writers, Boccaccio himself not altogether excepted. Though in his case, if his dramatis persona are puppets, the hand of a genius far other than Bandello's moved the marionettes. Of chivalry in either the earlier or the later novelle there is little trace. Italy -Dunlop is at pains to account for its absence-was a land of merchants; the soldier's life was held in low repute, nor did a country split into small states and warring factions afford a favorable condition for the development of national traditions corresponding to the cycle of the "Cid" in Spain or the Charlemagne legend of France. Nevertheless they are by no means wholly without records of magnanimous generosity and chivalrous instinct. Boccaccio himself inscribed the exquisite idyl, best known as Alfred de Musset re-rendered it, of Lisa, the apothecary's little daughter who lay dying for love of the young king, Re Pietro di Raona. Bandello recorded the story of Anselmo and Angelica, where the two feudal enemies are at strife each to outdo the other in "cortesia"-a plot which, while it faintly recalls the famous brother and sister scene of "Measure for Measure, " is a measure for measure of nobler fashion and unsullied import; and, to cite no more, the first story of Ser Giovanni's "Pecorone" has the true note of generous romance. "Madonna" -Galgano, her long despised lover, questions the wife of Messer Stricco"greatly I marvel wherefore you have this night sent for me more than at any other time, seeing I have so long desired and followed you who ever refused to see me or to hear;" and she answered him that the praise with which her husband had so greatly lauded him had moved her “di non t'esser più cruda." Galgano said, "Is this thing true?" She answered, "In very deed, yes." "And other reason you had none?" he demanded. She replied, "None." "Truly," then Galgano said, "it shall not please God nor me-since your husband has done me such courtesy-that I towards him do villany." So Galgano left her. Such episodes may be but breaks in the chronicles of ignoble deeds and paltry crimes. Yet we need reminding that such breaks are not so rare as we have been led to imagine. The forbidden tree, the science of human nature, with the novellicri, as in Eden of old, was the Tree of the Knowledge of Good as well as of Evil, and for them it bore its Apples of Beauty as well as its "Apples of Wrath." For the rest-I quote from Boccaccio's own wordsthese stories will not run after any one to make him read them, and for him "chi va tra queste leggendo, lasci star quelle che pungono, e quelle che dilettano, legga." From The Nineteenth Century. CHANTILLY AND THE DUC D'AUMALE. The castle and estate of Chantilly, are celeand the collection there, brated. The spot is a beautiful one. a thick An immense forest forms mantle covering the surrounding hills and valleys. The castle rises amidst the waters, majestic and picturesque. Memories of great people cling around this noble dwelling: the names of the Montmorencys, the Condés and the Bourbons, recur to the mind the moment one's gaze rests upon those walls which have sheltered so many illustrious personages. Recollections of the last possessor mingle therewith and shed a new and enduring splendor on the noble pile. A description of Chantilly Castle would fill a large volume, and each of the principal parts of the collections it contains would require at least three. This is precisely the number of volumes to be devoted to the paintings by M. F. A. Gruyer, to whom the late Duc d'Aumale confided the task of compiling a catalogue with comments and en 1 The original story is in Cinthio's "Hecatom- gravings. Another scholar, M. Léopold miti," Decade 8, Novel 5. Deslisle, was chosen to enumerate the riches of the library, which was added de Boutellier on account of the office to constantly and with the best taste of royal cup-bearer with which it was by a book-loving prince, himself the invested. author of an historical work, ably written and enriched with valuable documents. The other collections abound in works of art and in arms of all sorts and all periods. Each one was to be the subject of a monograph, with plates and figures supplementing the descriptions. The work has already been commenced, and will probably be continued by the Institut de France, to which the Duc d'Aumale has bequeathed (by will dated 1887) the estate and all that it contains, reserving only the usufruct. The noble duke was a member of three sections of that eminent body-the Académie Française, the Académie des Beaux-Arts, and the Académie des Sciences morales et politiques. The other two divisions, the Académie des Sciences and the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, might also have enrolled him, for there are few branches of knowledge to which the duke was a stranger. Although the Chantilly estate has a considerable past and a feudal origin dating pretty far back, the name is not ancient. It comes from a clump of lime trees (campus tiliæ), the remains of which, it is said, are still to be seen in one of the avenues. There is good reason to believe, however, that the original trees have disappeared and given place to others. What is more certain is that a fortress existed there in the Middle Ages, built by the first owners of the land in the midst of swamps, where it was beyond the reach of the missiles employed before the invention of cannon. On the site occupied by this fortress was erected what has since been called "the old castle." This ancient stronghold, like many others antecedent to the twelfth century, formed, owing to the shape of the ground, an irregular pentagon, with a projecting tower at each angle. The little that is known of its history only reveals that in the tenth century it belonged to the Count de Senlis, and that it afterwards passed to the branch of that house which received the name of In the fourteenth century the estate passed into the hands of Guy de Laval, who sold it to Pierre d'Orgemont, chancellor of France. Marguerite, an heiress of this Pierre d'Orgemont, brought it back to the family from which she had sprung by her marriage with Jean II. de Montmorency. Here the history commences to be piquant. The two sons whom Jean had had by his first wife fell out with their step-mother and seized the occasion to oppose the king, Louis the Eleventh, by joining the Duke of Burgundy's party. This enraged their father, who, in his judicial capacity, summoned one of them, Jean, lord of Nivelle, in Flanders, to appear before him and hear himself condemned to return to his feudal duty. This summons was made known by the sound of trumpets and the voices of heralds-at-arms. But Nivelle was distant; Jean turned a deaf ear, and failed to put in an appearance. The call was repeated again and again, but still remined unanswered. Montmorency's fury then became ungovernable; he disinherited his son and spoke of him as a "felon" and a "chien." rage excited no doubt the caustic wit of the clerks of his household, for they humorously said, "ce chien de Jean de Nivelle, il s'enfuit quand on l'appelle." This has passed into a proverb, and when a man will not hear, or runs off when called, it is commonly said that "il ressemble à ce chien de Jean de Nivelle qui fuit quand on l'appelle." His impotent Jean II., remaining loyal to Louis the Eleventh, kept to his resolution to disinherit his son, who remained in Flanders. The Comte de Horn, who was beheaded with the Comte d'Egmont, was Jean de Nivelle's grandson. These things are somewhat apart from our subject, but there is a connecting link in the fact that Jean II. had, by Marguerite d'Orgemont, a son, named Guillaume, who was the father of the famous high constable, Anne de Montmorency, the real founder of Chantilly Castle. The old castle had become too small and resembled a prison. It was the time when the Italian renaissance was extending its ramifications into France just after the expeditions into Italy made by Charles the Eighth, Louis the Twelfth, and François Premier. Utilizing the leisure given him by his disgrace under François the Second, he built a new castle in the new style, a mixture of the Roman architecture then being revived beyond the Alps, and of the elegant and variegated French architecture. The old massive towers of defence had not yet been discarded, but their character had been changed. Instead of being a warlike element, they formed a decorative feature. The defensive appearance subsisted, but was brightened by the enlarged windows and the openworked balustrades. at Lawns and flower-beds charmed the eye, while beautiful avenues stretched away into the forest. Anne I., Duke of Montmorency, perished at Saint-Denis at the hand of Robert Stuart. He was seventy-four years old and had had sufficient time to give his residence Chantilly an air of grandeur, which his descendants have not failed to increase. But the work of the old warrior was destined to undergo some vicissitudes. His grandson, Henri II. de Montmorency, was, for a short time, the idol of the people and the court. A brilliant prince, but weak-willed, he allowed himself to be drawn into a conspiracy against Richelieu. This was the last cry, so to speak, uttered by the feudal spirit. Henri lost his head at Toulouse in 1632, at the age of thirtyeight years. With him the first ducal branch of the Montmorencys became extinct. His sister Charlotte, the most beautiful woman of her time, entered into possession of the sequestrated property. She married Henri II. de Bourbon-Condé, and thus it was that the eaglets of the Montmorencys became united to the fleurs-de-lys of France, and the bipartite escutcheon was able to be sculptured by the Duc d'Aumale on the walls of the restored château. This Princess de BourbonCondé-Montmorency was the mother of the great Condé, of the Prince de Conti, and of Madame de Longueville. The Chantilly estate having thus become the property of the house of France, it ever afterwards remained so. The historians of the end of the sixteenth century are loud in their praises of the beauties of Chantilly, and the pleasures enjoyed by the little court which Prince Henri II. held there. M. Cousin has written eloquently about it in his able work on Madame de Longueville. It is, however, to the Grand Condé that Chantilly chiefly owes its renown. He not only embellished it internally, but caused Le Notre to lay out new gardens, make channels to carry away the waters of the brooks, and enclose the fish-ponds within solid walls. Charles the Fifth had visited Chantilly in the time of the Constable; and later Henri the Fourth had come there, attracted, however, more by the charms of the châtelaine than by the beauty of the spot and the sumptuousness of the new château. The Grand Condé was visited there by Louis the Fourteenth and all his court, whom he entertained with a splendor that quite dazzled Madame de Sévigné. Everybody has read the letter in which she describes those festivities and relates with such unaffected, inimitable art the events of that famous day when Vatel killed himself: On soupa, il y eut quelques tables où le ròti manqua. Cela saisit Vatel; il dit plusieurs fois: "Je suis perdu d'honneur; voici un affront que je ne supporterai pas." Il dit à Gourville: "La tête me tourne; il y a douze nuits que je n'ai dormi; aidez-məi a donner des ordres." . . . Le prince alla jusque dans la chambre de Vatel et lui dit: "Vatel, tout va bien, rien n'était si beau que le souper du roi." Il répondit: "Monseigneur, votre bonté m'achève; je sais que le rôti a manqué à deux tables." "Point du tout," dit le prince; "ne vous fâchez pas; tout va bien." Minuit vient; le feu d'artifice ne réussit pas; il fut couvert d'un nuage. Il coûtait 16,000 francs. A quatre heures du matin, Vatel s'en va contre un petit pourvoyeur qui lui apportait partout; il trouve tout endormi; il renseulement deux charges de marée; il attend quelque temps; sa tête s'échauffait, il crut qu'il n'aurait pas d'autre marée; il trouva Gourville il lui dit: "Monsieur, je ne survivrai pas à cet affront-ci." Gourville se moqua de lui. Vatel monta à sa chambre, mit son épée contre la porte et se la passa au travers du cœur, mais ce ne fut qu'au troisième coup. La marée cependant arrive de tous côtés; on cherche Vatel pour la distribuer; on monte à sa chambre; on heurte, on enfonce la porte, on le trouve noyé dans son sang; on court à M. le prince qui fut au désespoir." the Such is Madame de Sévigné's account of it. To-day Vatel would have felt no acustress. In the absence of sea-fish he would have fallen back on fresh water fish, with which the ponds at Chantilly are abundantly stocked. He would have artistically disguised the carp as turbot and the eels as rock lobsters. At a push he would have served breast of chicken as filleted sole, SO great has been the progress made in the culinary art in France since days of Louis the Fourteenth. they were not afraid to spend money. A well-informed chronicler compiled an account of what it cost the prince to entertain worthily his great cousin the king, and he estimated the expense at two hundred thousand livres, which is equal to eight hundred thousand francs of our money. But this is nothing in comparison with the millions of francs spent two centuries earlier by a merchant of Florence to celebrate his daughter's marriage. Yet Chantilly was still further enlarged and improved by the descendants of the great Condé. They built a church, planted the Parc de Sylvie, and erected various subsidiary buildings, or completed those which were still unfin ished. Thus the famous stables with marble troughs were built, which can hold two hundred and forty horses. When Paul the First, Emperor of Russia, came to France, Louis-Henri de Bourbon, grandson of the great Condé, gave, in the central rotunda which forms a riding school, a feast ending with a sort of transformation scene. The screens which shut off the two wings containing the horses were drawn aside, displaying the entire stable to the sight of the guests. The Revolution swept down upon Chantilly as upon many other splendid residences. The old castle was demolished, and the small castle would have shared the same fate had not the buyer delayed its destruction too long. This small castle, called the Château d'Enghien, together with the stables, were turned into barracks. Under the Empire, the forest was an appanage of Queen Hortense, and when the restoration came, Prince Louis-Henri de Bourbon re-entered into possession of the estate and the ruins of the castle. He died in 1818, and his son, the last of the Condés, whose son, the Duc d'Enghien, was shot at Vincennes, himself died shortly after, the revolution of 1830. He was found hanging to a windowfastening in the Château de Saint-Leu, where he was then staying. Full light has never been thrown upon his tragic end. By his will the youthful Duc d'Aumale was made universal legatee. The immense fortune of the Condés could not have come into petter hands. The young prince had the traditional valor of the Bourbons. His military disposition, of which he gave such briiliant evidence in Afries coupled with a passionate fondness for terature and art. Early in lie, when master of his ideas, he formed the design of bringing back to Chantilly its past splendors, and of using the rev enues of the domain for the complete restoration of the home of the Condés. The revolution of 1848, which broke out while he was governor of Algeria, prevented him from executing his plans at that time. Popular with the army which he had led to victory, beloved and respected in France, he might easily have brought over his troops and commenced with the provisional government a struggle, the ssue of which would scarcely have been doubtful. But he preferred exile to civil war. From this, and from the eserved at 1tude which he always maintained after his return to France, a writer has tried to draw the conclusion that in submitting to exile, and in appearing to lend his words and actions the passing of laws contrary to equi and jus |