is supposed by some of his descendants that he would have continued in it to the present day, if any of the family had remained alive.
As to the various members of the Rimini family, it may suffice that we should dismiss them by drawing a slight sketch:—
In a Sicilian cottage near the sea, a little old lady—some would say a dear little old lady—sits in a high-backed chair. She gazes pensively, now on the blue Mediterranean, now on a family group which consists of the dark-eyed Juliet and the earnest Lucien, who are vainly striving to restrain the violence of their youngest son; the eldest being engaged in a surreptitious attempt to pull down a map of Algiers, which hangs on the opposite wall. Mariano, with his wonted vivacity, stands before the old lady tossing a small female specimen of humanity as near to the ceiling as is compatible with prolonged existence. Angela looks on admiringly. She does not appear to care much for Mariano now! Why she takes so much interest in the female baby we leave to the reader to discover. Old Francisco is there too, bluffer and bolder than ever, and so is Paulina, with a beautiful dark-haired girl, who is the very image of the tall handsome man engaged in conversation with Francisco.
It is no accidental coincidence this meeting. It is a family gathering, planned and carried out from
