the abbess, again crossing herself.

"Signor Wagner himself, holy mother," was the reply.

"The pious Duke Cosmo bequeathed gold to this institution," said the
abbess, "that masses might be offered up for the souls of those who fall
beneath the weapon of the assassin. See that the lamented prince's
instructions be not neglected in this instance, Ursula."

"It was to remind your ladyship of this duty that I ventured to break
upon your privacy," returned the nun, who then withdrew.

The abbess approached Nisida, and touched her upon the shoulder to
intimate to her that they were again alone together.

She had drawn down her veil, and was leaning her forehead against one of
the iron bars which protected the window--apparently in a mood of deep
thought.

When the abbess touched her, she started abruptly round--then, pressing
the superior's hand with convulsive violence, hurried from the room.

The old porteress presented the alms-box as she opened the gate of the
convent; but Nisida pushed it rudely aside, and hurried down the steps
as if she were escaping from a lazar-house, rather than issuing from a
monastic institution.

CHAPTER XVII.

WAGNER IN PRISON--A VISITOR.

It was evening; and Wagner paced his narrow dungeon with agitated steps.

Far beneath the level of the ground, and under the ducal palace, was
that gloomy prison, having no window, save a grating in the massive door
to admit the air.

A lamp burned dimly upon the table, whereon stood also the coarse prison
fare provided for the captive, but which was untouched.

The clanking of the weapons of the sentinels, who kept guard in the
passage from which the various dungeons opened, fell mournfully upon
Fernand's ears, and every moment reminded him of the apparent
impossibility to escape--even if such an idea possessed him.

The lamp had burned throughout the day in his dungeon; for the light of
heaven could not penetrate that horrible subterranean cell--and it was
only by the payment of gold that he had induced the jailer to permit him
the indulgence of the artificial substitute for the rays of the glorious
sun.

"Oh! wretched being that I am!" he thought within himself, as he paced
the stone floor of his prison-house; "the destiny of the accursed is
mine! Ah! fool--dotard that I was to exchange the honors of old age for
the vicissitudes of a renewed existence! Had nature taken her course, I
should probably now be sleeping in a quiet grave