er seat at the
open windows of her splendid saloon on board the Ottoman Admiral's ship,
and began to lay aside her apparel, preparatory to retiring to rest. She
was already wearied of the monotonous life of ship-board; and the
strange revelations which the discourse between Ibrahim Pasha and
Demetrius had developed to her ears, rendered her doubly anxious to set
foot upon her native soil.

The grand vizier had paid his respects to her every day since she first
embarked on board the Turkish ship; and they exchanged a few
observations, rather of courtesy than in any deeper interest, by means
of the tablets. Ibrahim's manner toward her was respectful; but when he
imagined himself to be unperceived by her, his eyes were suddenly
lighted up with the fires of ardent passion; and he devoured her with
his burning glances. She failed not to notice the effect which her
glorious beauty produced upon him, and she studiously avoided the
imprudence of giving him the least encouragement; not from any innate
feeling of virtue, but because she detested him as a man who was bent on
accomplishing a marriage between her brother and Flora Francatelli. This
hatred she concealed, and even the eagle-sighted Ibrahim perceived not
that he was in any way displeasing to the lovely Nisida. With the
exception of the grand vizier, and the slaves who waited upon her, the
lady saw no one on board the ship; for she never quitted the saloon
allotted to her, but passed her time chiefly in surveying the broad sea
and the other vessels of the fleet from the windows, or in meditating
upon the course which she should pursue on her arrival in Florence.

But let us return to the thread of our narrative. The last tints of the
sunset were, we said, fading away, when the Lady Nisida commenced her
preparations for retiring to rest. She closed the casements, satisfied
herself that the partition door between the two saloons was well
secured, and then threw herself upon the voluptuous couch spread in one
of the smaller cabins opening from her own magnificent apartment. She
thought of Fernand, her handsome Fernand, whom she had abandoned on the
Isle of Snakes, and profound sighs escaped her. Then she thought of
Francisco; and the idea of serving that much-beloved brother's interests
afforded her a consolation for having thus quitted the clime where she
had passed so many happy days with Wagner.

At length sleep fell upon her, and closed over the large, dark,
brillia