"One day, when I had conducted an English family to Herculaneum, I felt
myself a little indisposed while showing them the theatre, and, with
much charitable feeling, they insisted on my going up to the fresh air,
and leave them with the common guide. Glad to avail myself of their
kindness, I instantly retired, and at a short distance from the opening
where we descended, I sat down on the capital of a defaced Corinthian
column, to wait their return.

"While sitting on that spot, I cast my eyes accidentally towards the
summit of Vesuvius, then emitting, as if panting for breath, occasional
volumes of white smoke. As they rolled along the speckless expanse of
the calm blue firmament, they assumed various beautiful forms, and I was
watching their progress, forgetful of all but the visible poesy of their
appearance, when the voice of the Demon whispered, as if its dreadful
lips were at my ear--'YOUR BROTHER.'

"I started from my seat, and looked behind me in horror; but only the
bay, with its romantic shores, was in sight.

"When I had shaken off the consternation of the moment, I resumed my
seat, and began to examine myself as to the purpose suggested by the
portentous words. My cogitation was not long. The count was unmarried,
and was the only impediment between me and the family estates.

"You can imagine what followed: here I am, and this night I shall be
with the Demon; but I should continue the remainder of my story. When
the English travellers returned, they spoke to me with a friendly
tenderness, and something in my appearance and manners had so interested
them in my favour, that the old gentleman presented me with a purse of