ds to assuage his rage or to pour forth his woe. His hair, which the
storm had flattened, rose on his head, the marrow of his bones was
chilled, and he felt his tears rush back upon his heart. It was a
terrible moment; he forgot that the murderer still lived.

The prince, however, whose admirable composure did not for a moment
desert him, had risen, bruised and bleeding. Pale and trembling with
rage, he sought everywhere for a weapon with which to avenge himself.
Gabriel returned towards him gloomier and more ominous than ever, and
grasping his neck with an iron hand, dragged him into the room where the
old man was sleeping.

"Father! father! father!" he cried in a piercing voice, "here is the
Bastard who Has just murdered Nisida!"

The old man, who had drunk but a few drops of the narcotic potion, was
awakened by this cry which echoed through his soul; he arose as though
moved by a spring, flung off his coverings, and with that promptitude of
action that God has bestowed upon mothers in moments of danger, event up
to his daughter's room, found a light, knelt on the edge of the bed, and
began to test his child's pulse and watch her breathing with mortal
anxiety.

All! this had passed in less time than we have taken in telling it.
Brancaleone by an unheard-of effort had freed himself from the hands of
the young fisherman, and suddenly resuming his princely pride, said in a
loud voice, "You shall not kill me without listening to me."

Gabriel would have overwhelmed him with Bitter reproaches, but, unable to
utter a single word, he burst into tears.

"Your sifter is not dead," said the prince, with cold dignity; "she is
merely asleep. You can assure yourself of it, and meanwhile I undertake,
upon my Honour, not to move a single step away."

These words were pronounced with such an accent of truth that the
fisherman was struck by them. An unexpected gleam of hope suddenly
dawned in his thoughts; he cast upon the stranger a glance of hate and
distrust, and muttered in a muffled voice, "Do not flatter yourself, in
any case, that you will be able to escape me."

Then he went up to his sister's room, and approaching the old man, asked
tremblingly, "Well, father?"

Solomon thrust him gently aside with the solicitude of a mother removing
some buzzing insect from her child's cradle, and, making a sign to enjoin
silence, added in a low voice, "She is neither dead nor poisoned. Some
philtre has been given to her for