earth I shall not find any thing more beautiful!” The youthful Apollonia, her modesty deeply wounded, and glowing with confusion, had well nigh given a severe reproof to the young artist for what appeared to her to be the height of presumption. After she had become, however, the wife of the illustrious Frangipani, she furnished proofs of an intrepidity and heroism that would not have been expected in the bosom of a female. Not only did she accompany the count on horse-back in the chace, when he visited his and her patrimonial estates in the Trevisan, but in the sequel, when, as has been mentioned above, he repaired to the camp at the head of a body of Venetian nobles, she went with him, and was even at his side, only rather more lightly armed than himself, in several skirmishes, defending her husband whenever danger approached him with a hand nerved by the strongest conjugal love. Notwithstanding the advantages she derived from a majestic stature and her extraordinary capacity, the count, whose enterprising spirit was restrained by his constant anxiety for her safety, at length prevailed on her to repair with a proper escort to their estates in the rear of the army. Though this resolution cost Apollonia many tears, still she admitted the justice of the apprehensions by which her husband was actuated. Circumstances seemed to indicate the near approach of a general engagement; and Count Frangipani, conspicuous
