s, who are believers and servants of the church, to place
obstacles in his path. I will suggest the expediency, therefore, of giving
him at least permission to depart."

"As we are near the end of the inquiries," interrupted the Signor
Grimaldi, gravely, "I would suggest, with due deference to a better
opinion and more experience, the propriety that all should remain,
ourselves included, until we have come to a better understanding of the
truth."

Both Pippo and the pilgrim met this suggestion with ready declarations of
their willingness to continue at the convent until the following morning.
This little concession, however, had no great merit, for the lateness of
the hour rendered it imprudent to depart immediately; and the; affair was
finally settled by ordering them to retire, it being understood that,
unless previously called for, they might depart with the reappearance of
the dawn. Maso was the next and the last to be examined.

Il Maledetto presented himself with perfect steadiness of nerve. He was
accompanied by Nettuno, the mastiffs of the convent having been kennelled
for the night. It had been the habit of the dog of late to stray among
the rocks by day, and to return to the convent in the evening in quest of
food, the sterile St. Bernard possessing nothing whatever for the support
of man or beast except that which came from the liberality of the monks,
every animal but the chamois and the laemmergeyer refusing to ascend so
near the region of eternal snows. In his master, however, Nettuno found a
steady friend, never failing to receive all that was necessary to his
wants from the portion of Maso himself; for the faithful beast was
admitted at his periodical visits to the temporary prison in which the
latter was confined.

The chatelain waited; a moment for the little stir occasioned by the
entrance of the prisoner to subside, when he pursued the inquiry.

"Thou art a Genoese of the name of Thomaso Santi?" he asked, consulting
his notes.

"By this name, Signore, am I generally known."

"Thou art a mariner, and it is said one of courage and skill. Why hast
thou given thyself the ungracious appellation of Il Maledetto?"

"Men call me thus. It is a misfortune, but not a crime, to be accursed."

"He that is so ready to abuse his own fortunes should not be surprised if
others are led to think he merits his fate. We have some accounts of thee
in Valais; 'tis said thou art a free-trader?"

"The fact can lit