LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 862, 29 March 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

KATARINA ORSINI. By the Author of "East Lynne." {From the Argosy.) It was a sunny day, in sunny Italy. A picturesque dwelling, half palace, half villa, three part ruin, rose in the midst of extensive grounds, Pleasure grounds once, and luxuriantly beautiful; but now, like the house, run to waste. The hand of time had left en all its defacing marks, and the owners were not rich enough to arrest effectually its ravages. A small space just around the house was kept in order; a few of the rooms were retained as habitable. Those rooms and the cultivated portion of the garden displayed a luxury that untravelled people in our own land have never seen or dreamt of; all else told of utter neglect, of extreme poverty. One room, it was the state saloon, large and lofty, and opening on a white marble colonnade, was shaped as an octagon. Gilded mirrors, a mosaic floor, chaste statues of alabaster, carvings of ivory, inlaid tables, ottomans and foot-mats of rich and costly velvet, delicate vases holding flowers, and a few exquisite pictures, caught the eye and pleased the taste. Without, below this white marble colonnade, the rich green foliage of the trees blended with brilliant hued flowers. Shady green banks afforded a grateful shelter; life-like statues were again seen here, carved from the marbles of Pentelicus; while the spray of a fountain, falling into its basin with a rippling murmur, whispered of delicious coolness in the noonday heat. A stranger, walking about the streets of the Eternal City, in its dirty narrow bye-ways, and gazing up at its dull palaces, some of them ugly looking enough, all their windows closely shut against the light of the sun, might scarcely have said she could own so enchanting a spot. For this half ruined villa palace, enclosed within its own walls, was not situated in Rome's most favored part. Sitting on the white steps that led down to the fountain, listlessly dropping rose leaves, one by one, into its glistening waters, was a lovely young girl of eighteen. Her features were pale and faultless, her dark brown eyes shone with a gentle light, her hair was soft as silken threads. There she sat, casting in the rose leaves to the little lish, humming scraps of songs under her breath, talking to some gay birds that hung aloft in a gilded cage, and wondering lazily where Maria, was. Thus amusing herself, she sat on until the sun went down ' Katarina,' called out a voice from the house, speaking the soft name gently, ' the hours are advancing; come in.' 'lt is pleasant here, mother mine,' answered the girl. ' Child, come in, I say. The evening miasma will be rising.' 'Nay, but it docs not penetrate here,' returned Katarina.

'lt does, Katarina. It was nothing but that fatal malaria which destroyed my sister. She sat out in it, as you think you may sit. Its breath struck her down, and ere the week's end they were chanting over her the requiem for the dead. Child, linger not.'

Katarina obeyed, smiling ; the young are ever carelessly sanguine. In the state saloon her mother sat, engaged in some light lace work ; her sister listlessly stood by one of the alabaster pillars. Maria was but a year the senior of the two girls, but she looked older than her age; maidens ripen fast under a generous sun. Her style of beauty was rare, for her face was of dazzling fairness, her hair like threads of fine gold, and her eyes were blue as are Italia's skies. Of lofty and graceful form, admiration followed her wherever she appeared, and the fame of Maria Orsini's beauty was already rife in the high coteries of Rome. The younger one, Katarina, slight and small of stature, of manners retiring, of bearing gentle, attracted less notice.

Ihey were the children of the Count and Countess Orsini. It was a remote branch of the great Orsini family ; an obscure branch, as compared with those high and mighty people. The Count and Countess Orsini possessed all the pride and pretension of their race; and possessed it the more, perhaps, from the consciousness of the fact that they were in a degree looked down upon by their distant and higher-positioned relatives. The count was poor, the count moreover was an ungenial-mannered man, the count was inclined to be quarrelsome. The countess, of weakly health, of retiring tastes, would never willingly have quitted her home; and so, what with his unpopularity and her dislike to society, they had fallen very much out of the world. But this had to be changed when their two beautiful daughters came home from the convent where they had been educated. The only son, heir to the dilapidated estates, was just now away. It was necessary, in the fulfilment of the obligations pertaining to their state and rank, that Maria and Katarina Orsini should enter into society ; therefore the countess had to break through the shell of her home retirement, and appear in the great world. And with two daughters so attractive to introduce to it, it need not be said that the world welcomed her. But some months had elapsed now since the young ladies' introduction, and the chief aim and end that had been expected to come of it had not been achieved by either—a dasirable marriage. A rather considerable sum of money had been set aside as their portions, and the two young ladies were heiresses in a moderate way; but their father had distinctly told each of them that unless she made a suitable marriage, one that would sati|y his ambition, not a stiver of it should she inherit. It was in his power to bestow it as he would. If his daughters failed to make a suitable match, they would be reconsigned to their convent home, their to take the veil. Launched into the gaieties of the Roaaish city, the girls had already become iond of its attractions, Maria especially ao. Her beauty was something new and rare, and the adulation it brought was all too welcome to Maria Orsini. Two, suitors had come forward for her. Savor ; but the one wa3 not deemed wealthy enough, and the other not oi suiHciently good descent to aspire to the nand of an Orsini. Maria was every whit as proud as her father, cold and ambitious. [To be continued.)

Nothing succeeds like success, says the French proverb. This is Strikingly xeroplified by the popularity attained by a stimulating invigorant and diuretic some twenty-five years ago, and which has ever ■<inne gone on conquering weakness, kidney iseaee, gravel, rheumatism, dyspepsia, and various other maladies, It is also regarded by physicians as an efficient protection against complaints caused by variations of the weather, and is known to the public as Udolpho Wolfe's Fchiedam Aromatic fcCHNAPPS.—[Advt I