ting eyes seemed to pierce
the shelter of her veil, and explore the secrets of her vain and
unfeminine soul.

'And what,' said his low, deep voice, 'brings thee, O maiden! to the
house of the Eastern stranger?'

'His fame,' replied Julia.

'In what?' said he, with a strange and slight smile.

'Canst thou ask, O wise Arbaces? Is not thy knowledge the very gossip
theme of Pompeii?'

'Some little lore have I indeed, treasured up,' replied Arbaces: 'but in
what can such serious and sterile secrets benefit the ear of beauty?'

'Alas!' said Julia, a little cheered by the accustomed accents of
adulation; 'does not sorrow fly to wisdom for relief, and they who love
unrequitedly, are not they the chosen victims of grief?'

'Ha!' said Arbaces, 'can unrequited love be the lot of so fair a form,
whose modelled proportions are visible even beneath the folds of thy
graceful robe? Deign, O maiden! to lift thy veil, that I may see at
least if the face correspond in loveliness with the form.'

Not unwilling, perhaps, to exhibit her charms, and thinking they were
likely to interest the magician in her fate, Julia, after some slight
hesitation, raised her veil, and revealed a beauty which, but for art,
had been indeed attractive to the fixed gaze of the Egyptian.

'Thou comest to me for advice in unhappy love,' said he; 'well, turn
that face on the ungrateful one: what other love-charm can I give thee?'

'Oh, cease these courtesies!' said Julia; 'it is a love-charm, indeed,
that I would ask from thy skill!'

'Fair stranger!' replied Arbaces, somewhat scornfully, 'love-spells are
not among the secrets I have wasted the midnight oil to attain.'

'Is it indeed so? Then pardon me, great Arbaces, and farewell!'

'Stay,' said Arbaces, who, despite his passion for Ione, was not unmoved
by the beauty of his visitor; and had he been in the flush of a more
assured health, might have attempted to console the fair Julia by other
means than those of supernatural wisdom.

'Stay; although I confess that I have left the witchery of philtres and
potions to those whose trade is in such knowledge, yet am I myself not
so dull to beauty but that in earlier youth I may have employed them in
my own behalf. I may give thee advice, at least, if thou wilt be candid
with me. Tell me then, first, art thou unmarried, as thy dress
betokens?'

'Yes,' said Julia.

'And, being unblest with fortune, wouldst thou allure some wealthy
suitor?'

'I a