1826. ] The Cup of Honours. 397 
- minutes after this is seen the Genoese will answer it; and there may be 
some alarm about the palace. If there should be resistance, we must be 
prepared for all results :—the royal family—” He half drew his sabre, 
and held it suspended. The gesture was not to be misunderstood. 
« You would not let slaughter, indiscriminate slaughter, loose in the 
palace ?” said Manfredonia, shuddering. 
s* They or we,” pronounced the Hungarian fiercely. ‘‘ How can it be 
helped? If they are mad enough to court their fate ;—consent to this. 
It may not be necessary : but, at all events, I must have your authority 
for using my discretion in the business; or I leave you to—aye, to the 
scaffold.” He pronounced the word sternly—and dashed the sabre into 
the sheath with a look of supreme scorn. 
«Is their no alternative! They or I—an ignominious death—or—!” 
The minister’s voice died away. ; 
*‘ Or safety, honour, wealth unbounded—prince of the Calabrias”— 
was the quick reply. Manfredonia could not speak: his throat was 
filled: but stooping his cold brow upon the marble of the casement, 
which was not colder, he gave a token of acquiescence with his hand. 
The rocket flew into the air, and it was instantly answered by a shower 
of fireworks that illuminated the whole horizon. “ They come,” ex- 
claimed the Hungarian: “ I knew they would not fail.” The sound 
seemed repeated from earth and air. Manfredonia cast one look towards 
the bay, on which a huge crescent of ships.of war, with lamps in their 
bows and rigging, were advancing, like a host of new-fallen stars. At 
that moment the door was burst open behind him—he was grasped by the 
neck—and the king and a crowd of armed men stood in the room. 
* * * * * * * 
* * * * * * * 
It was in the month of November; the weather. was stormy ; and the 
chillness of a Neapolitan winter night is often such as to try the feelings 
of men accustomed to the coldest climates: yet, through that entire 
night, the Chiaja was filled with the thousands and ten thousands of 
the Neapolitan multitude, to see the preparations for an illustrious 
execution. A scaffold was raised in front of the mansion of the cele- 
brated and unfortunate Count of Manfredonia. He had been tried in 
secret, and consigned to the dungeons under St. Elmo. His crime was 
not distinctly divulged: but he was charged with some strange offences 
that apparently belonged to the tribunals of the church, as well as of 
the state. ‘Traitor and magician were a fearful combination; and the 
city was in a state of boundless confusion. The bells of the citadel roused 
Manfredonia from a broken slumber, and afew minutes before day break 
the governor of the castle entered his cell, with the confessor, to give 
him notice that his time was come. 
‘The confessor remained with him for confession. ‘ Holy father,” 
said the miserable man, “I have but one sin to confess: but that one is 
the mother of all—ambition.” He then disclosed the singular succession 
of events which had led him on from obscurity to rank, and at each step 
with its accompanying crime. “ But had you no adviser, no accomplice 
in those acts of guilt—no tempter ?”—said the confessor. The word 
struck on the unhappy man’s ear. “ Aye—too surely I had. But my 
chief tempter was my own hatred of obscure competence, of the 
superiority of others, the mad passion for being first in all things— Yet, 
