1831.] a Milanese Legend. 503 



apartment. The knight arose, and went to the door. " Vassals arid 

 retainers ! v he said,, speaking through it with dignity, " / now am lord 

 of this castle. Your Castellan I have vanquished in fair combat, and in 

 defence of my life, which some of you well wot was most unjustly prac- 

 tised on. In the name of your master, my father, I publish a pardon to 

 all who have aided their chief in this foul design, on condition that 

 they now acknowledge my authority and execute my orders. Refuse 

 and you will expose yourselves to the vengeance of a powerful master, 

 and an incensed parent. Go and instantly summon ghostly and 

 physical aid to your dying chief." 



The knight opened the door as he spoke, and presented himself, with 

 fearless brow and firm mien, to his new followers. One glance into that 

 chamber was sufficient for the menials. They beheld their dreaded chief 

 in the struggles of death ; they marked the high and confident authority 

 of the knight's bearing. Like all politicians, their part was soon taken. 

 They at once turned their back on the fallen potentate, and recognized 

 the power of the successful claimant on their homage ; and the young 

 man, so lately a captive on the verge of everlasting fate, beheld himself 

 lord of the dwelling that had, a few minutes before, been his prison 

 conqueror of him who had so recently held him in his power and pos- 

 sessor of the lady whom, on the preceding evening, he had deemed 

 immeasurably separated from him ! 



As the vassals flew to execute the humane orders of the knight, the 

 news of this change of dynasty spread fast and wide through the castle. 

 Domestics thronged towards the tragic chamber, and a shout of " Long 

 live the lord of Ferrando ! Long live the brave knight of Ferrando ! 

 Long live our new chief !" arose from the former slaves of the terrible 

 baron of Malinanza. 



The sound which proclaimed the ruin of all those darling and deadly 

 schemes for which he had sacrificed soul and body, seemed to recal the 

 passing spirit of the fallen Castellan. A dreadful flush, like the last red 

 gleam of a baleful comet ere it sets in night, wrapped for a moment his 

 whole countenance, and seemed to rekindle the eye that death had almost 

 extinguished. He half raised his head, and turned on the knight and 

 the maiden who, side by side, were kneeling over him such a concen- 

 trated look of dark hatred, wild anguish, and unutterable despair, that 

 the cheek of Portia waxed pale with horror. That flush died away. The 

 shades of death succeeded. The last dews of struggling nature burst 

 from the high forehead of the expiring Castellan ; the momentary kind- 

 ling of his eye was soon lost in the dim and rayless gaze that precedes 

 dissolution. His countenance grew stiff and pale his head fell the 

 dark spirit passed to its eternal doom and the haughty, vindictive, and 

 once terrible lord of Malinanza was now only a powerless and undreaded 

 corpse ! 



