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 Apollonia in the lightest negligée, with her eyes upraised to heaven. The soft breezes that played through the apartment had blown aside the light covering from her bosom, which heaved in unrestrained loveliness to meet the sportive zephyrs. Her hair flowed freely in long black ringlets over her majestic form. Her delicate fingers drew melancholy tones from the lute that lay upon her arm, while the big tear slowly trickled from her overcharged eye. Oh! had this object been reflected in the soul of a youth fraught with love and delicacy, long would it have shone refulgent there, as in the most glorious temple! On the contrary, it met the view of a half-intoxicated debauchee, whose gross appetite transformed it into the idol of the moment. Unable to contain himself, and determined on proceeding to the last extremity, he rushed precipitately on the countess, who dropped the lute with a shriek of terror. Regardless of her cries for assistance, he clasped her in his arms and covered her with kisses, which she vainly struggled to avoid. “No prudery, adored Apollonia!” said he with unsteady voice; “mine thou shalt and must be, and that this very hour.” Strengthened by the genius of insulted innocence, Apollonia disengaged herself from his grasp, and fled by a door leading into a contiguous apartment. Camillo