This, I suspect, is what is called "the natural vein," in which consists the peculiar merit of this new style of writing. After this charming burst of natural feeling, the Podesta's virtuous lady goes on with her lament. "CATARINA. "Il y a cinq semaines--cinq semaines éternelles que je ne l'ai vu!... Je suis enfermée, gardée, en prison. Je le voyais une heure de tems en tems: cette heure si étroite, et si vite fermée, c'était le seul _soupirail_[1] par où entrait un peu d'air et de soleil dans ma vie. Maintenant tout est muré.... Oh Rodolpho!... Dafné, nous avons passé, lui et moi, de bien douces heures!... Est-ce que c'est coupable tout ce que je dis là de lui? Non, n'est-ce pas?" * * * * * Now you must know, that this Signor Rodolpho plays the part of gallant to both these ladies, and, though intended by the author for another of his estimable personages, is certainly, by his own showing, as great a rascal as can well be imagined. He loves only the wife, and not the mistress of Angelo; and though he permits her par complaisance to be his mistress too, he addresses her upon one occasion, when she is giving way to a fit of immoderate fondness, with great sincerity. "RODOLPHO. "Prenez garde, Tisbe, ma famille est une famille fatale. Il y a sur nous une prédiction, une destinée qui s'accomplit presque inévitablement de père en fils. Nous tuons qui nous aime." From this passage, and one before quoted, it should seem, I think, that notwithstanding all the innovations of M. Hugo, he has still a lingering reverence for the immutable power of destiny which overhangs the classic drama. How otherwise can he explain these two mystic sentences?--"Ma famille est une famille fatale. Il y a sur nous une destinée qui s'accomplit de père en fils." And this other: "La haine c'est dans notre sang: il faut toujours qu'un Malipieri haïsse quelqu'un." The only other character of importance is a very mysterious one called Homodei; and I think I may best describe him in the words of the excellent burlesque which has already been brought out upon this "Angelo" at the Vaudeville. There they make one of the dramatis personæ, when describing this very incomprehensible Homodei, say of him,-- "C'est le plus grand dormeur de France et de Navarre." In effect, he far out-sleeps the dozing sentinels in the "Critic;" for he goes on scene after scene sleeping apparently as sound as a top, till all on a sudden he starts up wide awake, and gives us to understand that he too is exceedingly in love with Madame la Podesta, but that he has been rejected. He therefore determines to do her as much mischief as possible, observing that "Un Sbire (for such is his humble rank) qui aime est bien petit--un Sbire qui se venge est bien grand." This great but rejected Sbire, however, is not contented with avenging himself on Catarina for her scorn, but is pushed, by his destiny, I presume, to set the whole company together by the ears.