ber where you are, and how solemn a ceremony you have
both aided to interrupt."

"I know not that man!" ejaculated Agnes, indicating the stranger. "I
come hither, because I heard--but an hour ago--that my noble Andrea was
no more. And I would not believe those who told me. Oh! no--I could not
think that Heaven had thus deprived me of all I loved on earth!"

"Lady, you are speaking of my father," said Francisco, in a somewhat
severe tone.

"Your father!" cried Agnes, now surveying the young count with interest
and curiosity. "Oh! then, my lord, you can pity--you can feel for me,
who in losing your father have lost all that could render existence
sweet!"

"No--you have not lost all!" exclaimed the handsome stranger, advancing
toward Agnes, and speaking in a profoundly impressive tone. "Have you
not one single relative left in the world? Consider, lady--an old, old
man--a shepherd in the Black Forest of Germany----"

"Speak not of him!" cried Agnes, wildly. "Did he know all, he would
curse me--he would spurn me from him--he would discard me forever! Oh!
when I think of that poor old man, with his venerable white hair,--that
aged, helpless man, who was so kind to me, who loved me so well, and
whom I so cruelly abandoned. But tell me, signor," she exclaimed, in
suddenly altered tone, while her breath came with the difficulty of
acute suspense,--"tell me, signor, does that old man still live?"

"He lives, Agnes," was the reply. "I know him well; at this moment he is
in Florence!"

"In Florence!" repeated Agnes; and so unexpectedly came this
announcement, that her limbs seemed to give way under her, and she would
have fallen on the marble pavement, had not the stranger caught her in
his arms.

"I will bear her away," he said; "she has a true friend in me."

And he was moving off with his senseless burden, when Francisco, struck
by a sudden idea, caught him by the elegantly slashed sleeve of his
doublet, and whispered thus, in a rapid tone: "From the few, but
significant words which fell from that lady's lips, and from her still
more impressive conduct, it would appear, alas! that my deceased father
had wronged her. If so, signor, it will be my duty to make her all the
reparation that can be afforded in such a case."

"'Tis well, my lord," answered the stranger, in a cold and haughty tone.
"To-morrow evening I will call upon you at your palace."

He then hurried on with the still senseless Agnes in his arms; and th