as Viceroy of Naples, and
naturally went to visit the pretended king in prison. After a brief
interview, he unhesitatingly asserted that he had never seen the
prisoner before; whereupon the pretended Sebastian exclaimed, "You say
that you have no recollection of me, but I remember you very well. My
uncle, Philip of Spain, twice sent you to my court, where I gave you
such-and-such private interviews." Staggered by this intimate
knowledge of his past life, De Lemnos hesitated for a minute or two,
but at last ordered the gaoler to remove his prisoner, adding to his
command the remark, "He is a rank impostor,"--a remark which called
forth the stern rebuke, "No, Sir; I am no impostor, but the
unfortunate King of Portugal, and you know it full well. A man of your
station ought at all times to speak the truth or preserve silence!"

Whatever the real opinion of De Lemnos may have been, he behaved
kindly to his prisoner, and treated him with no more harshness than
was consistent with his safe-keeping. Unfortunately, the life of the
ex-ambassador was short, and his successor had no sympathy for the
_soi-disant_ king. On the 1st of April 1602, he was taken from his
prison and mounted upon an ass, and, with three trumpeters preceding
him, was led through the streets, a herald proclaiming at
intervals:--"His Most Catholic Majesty hath commanded that this man be
led through the streets of Naples with marks of infamy, and that he
shall afterwards be committed to serve in the galleys for life, for
falsely pretending to be Don Sebastian, king of Portugal." He bore the
ordeal firmly; and each time that the proclamation was made, added, in
clear and sonorous tones, "And so I am!"

He was afterwards sent on board the galleys, and for a short time had
to do the work of a galley slave; but as soon as the vessels were at
sea he was released, his uniform was removed, and he was courteously
treated. What ultimately became of him was never clearly ascertained,
but it is certain that on more than one occasion he succeeded in
confounding his opponents, and by his startling revelations of the
past led many who would fain have disputed his identity to express
their doubts as to the justice of his punishment. The probability is
that he was a rogue, but he was a clever one. Rumour says he died in a
Spanish fortress in 1606.

JEMELJAN PUGATSCHEFF--THE FICTITIOUS PETER III.

The reign of Catherine II. fills one of the darkest pages of Russia