and, announced the proximity of human
beings. The brunt of the hurricane was past, and the washing of the waves,
which had been stilled by the roar and the revelry of the winds, again
became audible.

The strength of the two struggling old men was sinking fast. The Signor
Grimaldi had, thus far, generously sustained his friend, who was less
expert than himself in the water, and he continued to cheer him with a
hope he did not feel himself, nobly refusing to the last to separate their
fortunes.

"How dost find thyself, old Melchior?" he asked. "Cheer thee, friend--I
think there is succor at hand."

The water gurgled at the mouth of the baron, who was near the gasp.

"'Tis late--bless thee, dearest Gaetano--God be with my child--my
Adelheid--poor Adelheid!"

The utterance of this precious name, under a father's agony of spirit,
most probably saved his life. The sinewy arm of Sigismund, directed by the
words, grasped his dress, and he felt at once that a new and preserving
power had interposed between him and the caverns of the lake. It was time,
for the water had covered the face of the failing baron, ere the muscular
arm of the youth came to perform its charitable office.

"Yield thee to the dog, Signore," said Sigismund, clearing his mouth of
water to speak calmly, once assured of his own burthen; "trust to his
sagacity, and,--God keep us in mind!--all may yet be well!"

The Signor Grimaldi retained sufficient presence of mind to follow this
advice, and it was probably quite as fortunate that his friend had so far
lost his consciousness, as to become an unresisting burthen in the hands
of Sigismund.

"Nettuno!--gallant Nettuno!"--swept past them on the gale for the first
time, the partial hushing of the winds permitting the clear call of Maso
to reach so far. The sound directed the efforts of Sigismund, though the
dog had swum steadily away the moment he had the Genoese in his gripe, and
with a certainty of manner that showed he was at no loss for a direction.

But Sigismund had taxed his powers too far. He, who could have buffeted
an ordinary sea for hours, was now completely exhausted by the unwonted
exertions, the deadening influence of the tempest, and the log-like weight
of his burthen He would not desert the father of Adelheid, and yet each
fainting and useless stroke told him to despair. The dog had already
disappeared in the darkness, and he was even uncertain again of the true
position of the bark. He