Rome is the museum of the fine arts, the curiosity-shop of the world.
There are collected the ruins of the ancient societies, temples,
columns, statues, the remains of Italian and Grecian genius,
_chefs-d'ouvre_ of Praxiteles, Phidias, Raphael, Michael Angelo, and a
hundred masters. Fountains, from which arise marine colossi, chiefly,
alas, in ruins, meet the eye on all sides. The stranger is struck with
amazement and admiration at the sight of these gigantic works of art,
upon many of which are engraved the mighty battles of a wonderful
by-gone age. It is not the fault of the priest if their beauty is not
marred by endless mitres and superstitious signs. But they are still
marvellous and beautiful, and it was among them that Julia, the
beautiful daughter of Albion, was constantly to be found. She had
resided for several years in this city of sublime memorials, and
daily passed the greater part of her time in sketching all that to her
cultivated taste appeared most worthy of imitation and study. Michael
Angelo was her especially favored _maestro_, and she might frequently be
seen sitting for hours before his colossal statue of Moses, rapt in the
labor of depicting that brow, upon which, to her vivid imagination, sat
an air of majestic greatness that appeared almost supernatural. Born and
bred in free and noble England, she had separated herself voluntarily
from loving and beloved friends, that she might thus wander undisturbed
among the objects of her idolatry. Unexpectedly, her pursuits had been
interrupted by a stronger feeling than art. She had encountered
Muzio many times in the studio of the sculptor Manlio, and, poor and
apparently low as he was, Julia had found under the ragged garb of a
mendicant her ideal of the proud race of the Quirites.
Yes, obscure though he was, Muzio was beloved by this strange English
girl. He was poor, but what cared she for his poverty.
And Muzio, did he know and return this generous love?
Yes, in truth; but, although he would have given his life to save hers,
he concealed all consciousness of her interest, and allowed not a single
action to betray it, though he longed fervently for occasion to render
her some trifling service, and the opportunity came. As Julia was
returning from Manlio's studio, some few days before his arrest,
accompanied by her faithful old nurse, two drunken soldiers rushed upon
her from a by-way, and dragged her between them some little distance,
before Muzio, who secretly kept her in view during such transits, could
come to her succor. No sooner had he reached them, than he struck one
ruffian to the earth, seeing which, his fellow ran away. The terrified
Julia thanked him with natural emotion, and besought him not to leave
them until they reached their own door. Muzio gladly accepted the
delicious honor of the escort, and felt supremely happy when, at their
parting, Julia gave him the favor of her hand, and rewarded him with a
priceless smile. From this evening Muzio's dagger was consecrated to
her safety, and he vowed that never again should she be insulted in the
streets of Rome.
It befell that the same day upon which Silvia went to the palace Corsini
to present her petition, Julia was paying one of her visits to the
studio. Arriving there, she was informed by a lad in attendance of
all that had occurred. Whilst pondering over the ominous tale, Attilio
entered in quest of the ladies, and from him the English girl learned
the particulars of Manlio's escape. His narration finished, Julia, in
turn, recounted to him the views that the youth had imparted to her
concerning the presentation of the petition.
Attilio was much distressed, and could with difficulty be restrained
from going directly to the palace in search of Silvia and her daughter.
This would have been very imprudent, and therefore Julia offered, as she
had access at all times to the palace, to go to the Cardinal's house,
and ascertain the cause of the now prolonged absence of the mother and
daughter, promising to return and tell him the result.
Attilio, thoroughly spent with excitement and fatigue, yielded to
Spartaco's invitation to take some rest, whilst the boy related to him
the particulars of what had passed since he left them to carry out the
rescue of his friend.