LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2233, 30 May 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THIS GIPSY’S PROPHEOY. I VISITD the prisons of Romo. _ Among the unforton- to ore *turea hr. ught hither by distress or guilt, I observed in the corner of the dungeon a young female seated on n han-iful of s'-iaw, nursing her infant. Her complexion was swarthy, and in her largo blaek eyes elowed the lira of the sun of Italy. The relics of her apparel indicated that previous to h°r imprisonment she had worn the garb of a Roman peasant. Her expressive physiognomy and her bold look seemed calculated to excite curiosity. I approached and begged her to relate to me through what misfortune she found herself in this place of horror. * St. Francis ! ’ oxolaimsd she, ‘ what interest can the narrative of my extraordinary misfortunes have for free and happy people. My name is Maria Grazia. My mother lost her life in giving birth to me. My father devote-1 to his own pleasures and oaring but little about my education placed me, while yet very young, in a convent. The older I grew, the more irksome this kind of life became to me ; for my inclinations, my disposition, and the vivacity of my oharao’er all seemed to urge mo on to a futurity of trouble. *A circumstance which I never could account for had a powerful upon my fate. On some particular occasion, a gipsy woman was admitted into the convent for our amusement. All the sisters were allowed to hold their esrs to the tin speak ing trumpet of the old sibyl, who, moreover, gave to each of us a slip of paper, on which •was written what she termed the decree of heaven. Thrloe did Igo up to her for the purpose of enjoy ing the like favor, and thrice the oracle became mute. This refusal of the old woman excited partly my anger and partly my curiosity. I begged, I entreated, I wept; at length the gipsy was moved by my tears. ‘You insist upon it. unhappy girl,’ said she ; ‘ well, then, know that yon will be the wife of a robber, who will murder your father, and that your hair will turn gray in a dungem.’ . . * At the age of fifteen such predictions make no very deep impression. I laughed heartily on the subject with my companions, and loaded the oid Jp-ophetess with ridicule. At night, however, when I wis alone, my mind became, against my will, a prey to apprehensions. I p»ssed the hours in anxiety and painful rovery ; the prediction of the femme teller incessantly haunted my waking dreams. ‘My father toek me out of the convent hat only to shat mo up again with an old housekeeper at his country seat, about five miles from Rime One night the weather was very tempestuous, I could not sleep. 1 fancied that £ heard a confused sound of voices under my window, which looked into the garden. I awoke my Aja, who never want to bed without her weapon, which was a large oarviog-keif . Pr-smily we heard the outer-window shatter broken open. _ We concealed ourselves b-hiud the curtain ; I had arme i myself with the knife. A pane of the window was cut, and a hand was protraded throngh the auerture to unfasten the catch whioh secured it. I seized the opp rtanity and struck so effective a blow that the hand dropped at my feet. A yell of agony and the sound of footsteps succeeded, and then all was quiet again. ‘At daybreak I repaired to Rome, where I related my adventure to my father, he admired my courage, and permitted me to leave the lonely villa. Ho was by this time thinking of marrying me, and oven hoped that my adventure, whioh was soon rumored abroad, would forward his design. ‘ Among my suitors there was a young cavalier, the beauty of whose handsome features was heightened by a delicate paleness. He gave himself out for a Florentine, and carried his arm in a sling, in consequence, it was said, of a slight wound which ne had received, in an off sir of honor. Hia kind attention and amiable manners soon made a deep impression upon mo. He solicited my hand. My father, with his nsaal levity, gave his consent and we were united. ‘ The day after onr marriage my husband was no longer the tender lover ; his looks were wild, his voice was harsh, and his smile sarcastic. Distressed at this melancholy change, 1 asked, with tears, after the cause of it.

* Would yon know who I am T ’ cried ho. ‘Do you recollect that night when you cat off the hand of an unknown person who would have penetrated into your chamber 1 Well, that hand was mine. Look here. ’ ‘His mu Rated arm bat too strongly confirmed bis story. ‘I had seen yon,’ ho continued, • and was captivated by your beauty, I determined to carry you off. With two of my comrades I ventured to climb up to your window. From the reception which you gave me, we inferred that yon had men to protect you. I retired, bnt learned the next day that to yon alone I owed the loss of my hand. Shame and rage at being thus baffle-1 by a girl of sixteen awakened within me thoughts of revenge. 1 came under an assumed name to Rome ; my friends, my artifices, my gold, accomplished the rest. Ton are now the wife of a—robber.

At this word a feeling of horror seized my soul ; nevertheless, whether it was owing to the flexibility of my disposition, to the prediction of the gipsy, to that secret fondness for romantic adventures to which the heart often bet too willingly resigns itself ; or finally to the hope of bringing back, by the power of love, a stray soul, dwelling in a yet youthful body, to the track of virtue ; in short, I threw myself at the feet of my husband, and implored him with tears not to cast me from him, for I would never oeaae to love him. Moved by my tears and my resignation, he clasped me to his bosom, and for three years 1 was, or imagined that I was happy. * One evening, however, he returned home pale and perturbed, his garments torn and spotted with blood. In broken sentences he told me that he had been obliged to defend his life against assassins, and charged me to observe the profoundett silence respecting this mysterious occurrence, 1 could not help trembling, but not for him ; my soul was shaken by melar cboly forebodings of a different kind. A h rrid dream terrified me—l woke. At the same moment my husband was also startled out of his sleep - his convulsed lips several times prooounqed the name of my father—the recollections of that gloomy prophecy enveloped my senses in darkness. Ob, my unhappy father? Oh, my still more wretched husfoond I The former had actually attacked the latter, having probably been apprised of the real state of the case, and desirous of withdrawing me from so disgraceful a connection, The agents of justice were soon in search of ns, and we escaped w th difficulty to the mountains.

* Then my husband bethought himself of his former comrades. He sought them out, discovered them, and a cavern of banditti was now my dwelling. His companions welcomed him with joy ; but he had violated one of their laws, which forbids any of the members of the baud to marry, and enacts that If a woman should fall into their hands, ■he should belong exclusively to the captain. No sooner had the latter set his eyes on me, than ha rudely insisted on his rights. Bis daring hand had already grasped me, when a ball from my husband’s pistol extended the wretch on the ground. Disliked as he was by the band, hlafall was a signal for a shout of joy from his comrades, who unanimously elected my husband their loader. So completely was I possessed by that wild spirit which must have betrayed itself in my looks to the gipsy at the gate of the nunnery, that I was quite proud of my husband’s elevation. I now wrapped myself la the coarse habiliments of a peasant, of which ore these rags which still cover me, and with equal courage and pleasure, accompanied my husband In his expeditions. Towns and villages rang with his exploits. Fate at length overtook him. He fell in a conflict with the horsemen who were sent against ns, and had discovered our retreat. At the moment that I saw my husband drop I sought shelter in a cavern for my infant; there 1 was seized and dragged to this dungeon, where I anticipate with horror the fulfilment of the latter port of that fearful predicament.’ Such was the narrative of Maria Orazla, the widow of the bandit chief. la pity for her uitcatior.. 1 offered her some pieces of gold, bat she rofa-.od them, at the same time caressing her child, which had fallen asleep at her bosom.

OJ.O. Hakdioapper.—Mr B. G. Griffith haa been appointed aa hondicapper to the 0.J.0. far the racing aeaaon, 1881-3