e young classic hero going forth to conquer a world.

Striving to throw into her countenance and the tones of her voice a
cheerfulness which was really at this moment strange to them, she
said, 'Farewell, Fakredeen!' and then, after a moment's hesitation,
and looking at Tancred with a faltering glance which yet made his heart
tremble, she added, 'Farewell, Pilgrim of Sinai.'

CHAPTER XL.

_The Romantic Story of Baroni_

THE Emir of the Lebanon and his English friend did not depart from the
desert city until the morrow, Fakredeen being so wearied by his journey
that he required repose.

Unsustained by his lively conversation, Tancred felt all the depression
natural to his position; and, restless and disquieted, wandered about
the valley in the moonlight, recalling the vanished images of the past.
After some time, unable himself to sleep, and finding Baroni disinclined
to slumber, he reminded his attendant of the promise he had once given
at Jerusalem, to tell something of his history. Baroni was a lively
narrator, and, accompanied by his gestures, his speaking glance, and
all the pantomime of his energetic and yet controlled demeanour, the
narrative, as he delivered it, would have been doubtless much more
amusing than the calmer form in which, upon reflection, we have thought
fit to record some incidents which the reader must not in any degree
suppose to form merely an episode in this history. With this observation
we solicit attention to

_The history of the Baroni family._

BEING A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF SIDONIA.

I.

'I had no idea that you had a garrison here,' said Sidonia, as the
distant sounds of martial music were wafted down a long, ancient
street, that seemed narrower than it was from the great elevation of
its fantastically-shaped houses, into the principal square in which was
situate his hotel. The town was one of the least frequented of Flanders;
and Sidonia, who was then a youth, scarcely of twenty summers, was on
his rambling way to Frankfort, where he then resided.

'It is not the soldiers,' said the Flemish maiden in attendance, and who
was dressed in one of those pretty black silk jackets that seem to
blend so well with the sombre yet picturesque dwellings of the Spanish
Netherlands. 'It is not the soldiers, sir; it is only the Baroni
family.'

'And who are the Baroni family?'

'They are Italians, sir, and have been here this week past, giving some
representations.'

'Of w