u seat him on a throne;
but Christine--the poor stricken Christine--is truly the child of my
bosom!"

Sigismund went and knelt at the feet of her whom he had ever believed his
mother, and earnestly begged her blessing and continued affection. The
tears streamed from Marguerite's eyes, as she willingly bestowed the
first, and promised never to withhold the last.

"Hast thou any of the trinkets or garments that were given thee with the
child, or canst render an account of the place where they are still to be
found?" demanded the Doge, whose whole mind was too deeply set on
appeasing his doubts to listen to aught else.

"They are all here in the convent. The gold has been fairly committed to
Sigismund, to form his equipment as a soldier. The child was kept apart,
receiving such education as a learned priest could give till of an age to
serve, and then I sent him to bear arms in Italy, which I knew to be the
country of his birth, though I never knew to what Prince his allegiance
was due. The time had now come when I thought it due to the youth to let
him know the real nature of the tie between us; but I shrank from paining
Marguerite and myself, and I even did his heart the credit to believe that
he would rather belong to us, humble and despised though we be, than find
himself a nameless outcast, without home, country, or parentage. It was
necessary, however, to speak, and it was my purpose to reveal the truth,
here at the convent, in the presence of Christine. For this reason, and to
enable Sigismund to make inquiries for his family, the effects received
from the unhappy criminal with the child were placed among his baggage
secretly. They are, at this moment, on the mountain."

The venerable old prince trembled violently; for, with the intense feeling
of one who dreaded that his dearest hopes might yet be disappointed, he
feared, while he most wished, to consult these mute but veracious
witnesses.

"Let them be produced!--let them be instantly produced and examined!" he
whispered eagerly to those around him. Then turning slowly to the
immovable Maso, he demanded--"And thou, man of falsehood and of blood!
what dost thou reply to this clear and probable tale?"

Il Maledetto smiled, as if superior to a weakness that had blinded the
others. The expression of his countenance was filled with that look of
calm superiority which certainty gives to the well-informed over the
doubting and deceived."

"I have to reply, Signor