re than the consciousness of
something gone. That city, which had been a weary labyrinth, was
material that he could subdue to his purposes now: his mind glanced
through its affairs with flashing conjecture; he was once more a man who
knew cities, whose sense of vision was instructed with large experience,
and who felt the keen delight of holding all things in the grasp of
language. Names! Images!--his mind rushed through its wealth without
pausing, like one who enters on a great inheritance.

But amidst all that rushing eagerness there was one End presiding in
Baldassarre's consciousness,--a dark deity in the inmost cell, who only
seemed forgotten while his hecatomb was being prepared. And when the
first triumph in the certainty of recovered power had had its way, his
thoughts centred themselves on Tito. That fair slippery viper could not
escape him now; thanks to struggling justice, the heart that never
quivered with tenderness for another had its sensitive selfish fibres
that could be reached by the sharp point of anguish. The soul that
bowed to no right, bowed to the great lord of mortals, Pain.

He could search into every secret of Tito's life now: he knew some of
the secrets already, and the failure of the broken dagger, which seemed
like frustration, had been the beginning of achievement. Doubtless that
sudden rage had shaken away the obstruction which stifled his soul.
Twice before, when his memory had partially returned, it had been in
consequence of sudden excitation: once when he had had to defend himself
from an enraged dog: once when he had been overtaken by the waves, and
had had to scramble up a rock to save himself.

Yes, but if this time, as then, the light were to die out, and the
dreary conscious blank come back again! This time the light was
stronger and steadier; but what security was there that before the
morrow the dark fog would not be round him again? Even the fear seemed
like the beginning of feebleness: he thought with alarm that he might
sink the faster for this excited vigil of his on the hill, which was
expending his force; and after seeking anxiously for a sheltered corner
where he might lie down, he nestled at last against a heap of warm
garden straw, and so fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes again it was daylight. The first moments were
filled with strange bewilderment: he was a man with a double identity;
to which had he awaked? to the life of dim-sighted sensibilities l