is eye on a face
which seemed not altogether unknown to his remembrance. The stranger
possessed a visage bold and finely formed, a piercing eye, and a
strongly-marked mouth set beneath a classic nose; while his tawny color
told a life exposed to daily wind, and sun, and rain.

"Art thou a student of the art which is our country's pride?" continued
the latter, "or does love inspire the skill which thou hast here
displayed?"

"I am no student," Gulielmo replied; "and yet I daily try, in my
unknowing way, to counterfeit the forms which I see."

"It were pity then," rejoined the other, "that such as thou should idly
waste those talents which when duly trained would surely bring their
owner fame and wealth. Suppose for instance that some great lord, or
other noble patron of the arts, should send thee a couple of years to
Rome;--but I forget. Perchance the maid whom thou hast pictured here,
might interpose her pretty face to spoil so fair a plan?"

"Alas!" said Gulielmo, quickly, "she is not for me. And though I see
that you are jesting, I tell you truly that I would go where any chance
might lead me, so that I might never see her or Sorento again."

"I do not jest," answered the stranger. "Indeed, I know your story
already. I was present just now at the inn, when you and Jean Maret fell
at variance. And, friend Gulielmo, I know of a certain lord who I am
confident will do you the office which your talents require. He is a
Russian prince, of generous hand, although of a somewhat rough exterior.
Take courage; perchance affairs may have a better turn. And if the
Russian, as no doubt he will, shall take thee under his wing, mayhap old
Gaspar's purpose may yield some grace to thy ill-prospered love. Hie
home then, and wait a little for the flood of fortune. I've faith that
thy ill-luck will shortly change to good."

The stranger turned away. Gulielmo, in mute surprise, watched his steps
a while, and then hastened along the winding path which led him back to
his own cottage door.

CHAPTER II.

PAS SEUL BY MOONLIGHT.

The moon hung high in silver light above the village and the quiet
fields which lay beyond, when a gallant train came in order down the
unfrequented street. Appareled gaily, each cavalier wore roquelaure and
belt, and in their midst they bore a prisoner--the veteran Jean.
Reaching at length the grassy market-place, they halted and formed a
ring, in the midst of which they placed their captive. Some