themselves of those forms which, in common, throw a
restraint upon the manners of their sex. The latter appeared to forget her
own sorrows, for a moment, in a new-born interest in her brother's
fortunes while the ears of the former drank in each syllable that fell
from the lips of the different speakers, with an avidity that her strong
sympathy with the youth could alone give.

"Here is a case containing trinkets of value," added Balthazar. "The
condemned man said they were taken through ignorance, and he was
accustomed to suffer the child to amuse himself with them in the prison."

"These were my first offerings to my wife, in return for the gift she had
made me of the precious babe," said the Doge, in such a smothered voice
as we are apt to use when examining objects that recall the presence of
the dead--"Blessed Angiolina! these jewels are so many tokens of thy pale
but happy countenance; thou felt a mother's joy at that sacred moment, and
could even smile on me!"

"And here is a talisman in sapphire, with many Eastern characters; I was
told it had been an heirloom in the family of the child, and was put about
his neck at the birth, by the hands of his own father."

"I ask no more--I ask no more! God be praised for this, the last and best
of all his mercies!" cried the Prince, clasping his hands with devotion.
"This jewel was worn by myself in infancy, and I placed it around the neck
of the babe with my own hands, as thou sayest--I ask no more."

"And Bartolo Contini!" uttered Il Maledetto.

"Maso!" exclaimed a voice, which until then had been mute in the chapel.
It was Adelheid who had spoken. Her hair had fallen in wild profusion over
her shoulders, as she still knelt over the articles on the pavement, and
her hands were clasped entreatingly, as if she deprecated the rude
interruptions which had so often dashed the cup from their lips, as they
were about to yield to the delight of believing Sigismund to be the child
of the Prince of Genoa.

"Thou art another of a fond and weak sex, to swell the list of confiding
spirits that have been betrayed by the selfishness and falsehood of men,"
answered the mocking mariner. "Go to, girl!--make thyself a nun; thy
Sigismund is an impostor."

Adelheid, by a quick but decided interposition of her hand, prevented an
impetuous movement of the young soldier, who would have struck his
audacious rival to his feet. Without changing her kneeling attitude, she
then spoke, modest