with a smile which indicated its refusal.

"It is difficult, sir, to speak of such things in the presence of the one who is to be the object of our homage. Permit me, however, the liberty to decide upon the manner in which I will acquit myself of my duty to this young lady."

"But permit me, signor, to tell you," said the old man, in an offended tone, "that it does you no honor to reject the advice of a man of experience, in order to carry out an unimportant fancy. Rashness does not indicate courage, but rather an absence of good sense."

"Father," exclaimed Mary, in a supplicating tone, "be not angry with
Signor Geronimo; he will incur no danger."

"Foolish confidence!" said the old man. "Why should Geronimo think himself less exposed to danger than others? That Geronimo should be rash is excusable; but, Mary, you deserve a severe reprimand for encouraging your friend in his perilous design."

The young girl bowed her head at this reproof of her father, and murmured as if to excuse herself: "Geronimo has a relic, father."

This revelation embarrassed the young man, and he glanced reproachfully at
Mary.

She said, caressingly:

"Don't be displeased, Geronimo; show the relic to my father, and he will then know why you do not fear that any accident will happen to you."

The young man felt that he could not refuse Mary's request. He drew from under his doublet an object suspended on a steel chain, and, approaching Mr. Van de Werve, he placed it in his hand.

It was a flat medal of greenish copper, on which were engraven unknown letters and signs. A cross between two bent sabres, and beneath them a crescent, filled up the centre of the medal. At the foot of the cross was a gray stone, rudely inlaid. The whole was rough and heavy.

Mr. Van de Werve examined this medal attentively for some time; he turned it over and over, as though he sought to comprehend the signification of this singular emblem.

"A relic!" he murmured. "Here are two cimeters, a crescent, and cabalistic characters. It is a Mohammedan talisman, and, perhaps, an emblem shocking to our holy religion!"

"You are certainly mistaken, sir," replied Geronimo.

"Is not the cross placed above the crescent, and would not that signify that the faith of Christ has triumphed over the doctrines of Mahomet?"

"But why do you call it a relic?"

"Mary so named it, not I. It is an amulet, and if it has any power, it derives it from the gray stone beneath the cross. This stone is a draconite, taken, at the risk of life, from the head of a dragon in the country of the negroes."

A half contemptuous smile curled the lips of the old man as he contemplated the talisman in silence. At last he said: "I remember, Signor Geronimo, to have read in Pliny curious details of the draconite and its extraordinary powers, but I also remember that the great naturalist forgets to tell us the inherent qualities of the stone. Alas! signor, would you trust in this talisman, and believe that it could protect you against the dagger of the assassin? The people of the South have a strange piety: in their superstition they confound what is holy with things which owe their efficacy, if they possess any, to the conjurations of sorcerers."

The young noble colored slightly, and replied: "You are mistaken, sir, as far as I am concerned. For my justification allow me to tell you that this amulet belonged to a pilgrim; that it rested one entire night of Good Friday upon the tomb of our Lord at Jerusalem; but I will be candid, and say to you that I do not consider it possessed of the power to preserve me from danger. And yet I always wear it with the firm and unshaken conviction that it will protect me in a critical hour from some misfortune."

"Perhaps it belonged to your deceased parents," said Mr. Van de Werve, struck by the singular explanation of the young man.

"No, sir," replied Geronimo; "this amulet is to me a cherished souvenir of a day upon which God gave me the grace to perform a good action. I would willingly tell you how the amulet fell into my hands, and why I believe in its power to protect me, but it is a long story."

"I would, nevertheless, be much pleased if you would satisfy my curiosity," said the old noble.

"If you desire it," replied Geronimo, "I will comply with your wishes.

"You know that five years ago, when I undertook for the first time the voyage from Lucca to Antwerp, I was made prisoner by Algerian pirates, and carried as a slave to Barbary. I was sold to a Moorish lord, who made me work in the fields until my uncle should send the ransom which would restore me to liberty. In the same field in which some light work was appointed me, I saw an old blind woman attached like a mule to a plough, and driven on by blows from a heavy stick. She was a Christian slave, whose eyes had been put out in wanton cruelty. I learned that she was an Italian by birth, a native of a small village in the environs of Porto Fiero, a seaport not far from Genoa. She had no relatives who could pay her ransom, and she had consequently been fastened to the plough like a beast of burden until death should come to deliver her. The frightful fate of this miserable slave so filled me with compassion, that I shed tears of grief and rage when I heard afar off her piercing cries as the rod of the overseer descended upon her. One day my indignation was so roused, when the pagan wretches had knocked her down and were treating her even more cruelly than usual, that I dared to defend her by force. Had not my master expected a large sum for my ransom, a frightful death would have been the punishment of my audacity. After being kept a few days in prison and harshly treated, I was sent back to the fields to work as before. The condition of the blind slave was not in the least changed; she was still inhumanly beaten. Her misfortunes pierced my heart, and I was maddened by my inability to protect from pagan cruelty a woman who was my sister by our common faith and a common misfortune. No longer venturing to have recourse to force, I sought other means to mitigate her sufferings. During the few hours of repose granted to us, or rather to our overseers, I hastened to the blind woman and shared with her the best of my food; I strove to fortify her by the hope that God would liberate her from this terrible slavery; I told her, that should I ever become free, I would procure her liberation, even were it necessary to renounce for years my own pleasures that I might amass sufficient for her ransom. I spoke to her of our country, of the goodness of God, and of the probability of my liberation. The poor blind woman kissed my hands, and called me an angel sent by God to illumine the darkness of her life by the sweet rays of consolation and piety. I was only a few months her fellow-slave. My uncle, learning my captivity through messengers I had employed, sent to Algiers an armed vessel to liberate me. Besides the amount of my ransom, he sent me means to transport some valuable merchandise from Barbary to Italy. When I took leave of the blind woman, I was so deeply touched by her sorrow, that I pondered upon the means of restoring her to liberty. It is true that in order to effect this, I would be obliged to employ a large portion of the money sent me by my uncle for the purchase of merchandise, and I was convinced that my uncle, who was inflexible in exacting fidelity to commercial regulations, would overwhelm me with his anger, but my heart gained the ascendency over my reason, and Christian charity triumphed. Listening only to my compassion, I ransomed the unfortunate woman, and with my own hands I unbound her chains. That was the happiest moment of my life."