the man, said a few words
aloud in German--as if he was really taking leave of a brother.

Nisida embraced him tenderly; and covering her countenance, as much as
possible, with her slouched hat, the waving plumes of which she made to
fall over her face, this extraordinary being issued from the cell.

CHAPTER XVIII.

FLORA FRANCATELLI--THE THREE NUNS--THE CHAIR.

Nisida regained her apartment, by the private staircase, without any
molestation. Having laid aside her male attire, she assumed a loose
wrapper, and then, throwing herself into an armchair, gave way to her
reflections.

These were apparently of no pleasurable nature; for they were frequently
interrupted by convulsive starts and rapid glancings around the room--as
if she were fearful lest some terrible specter were present to scare
her.

Once or twice her eyes lingered on her mother's portrait; and then
profound sighs escaped her bosom.

Presently the beautiful Flora Francatelli entered the apartment; but
Nisida made her a sign of dismissal.

The maiden withdrew; and we must now follow her to her own chamber.

On reaching her bedroom, Flora did not immediately retire to rest. She
felt that she should not sleep, even were she to seek her pillow: for
she had much--very much to ponder upon!

There was a marked, undisguised reserve about her mistress which
materially affected her. Although she could not control her affections,
yet she felt as if she were acting with duplicity toward the Lady Nisida
in having listened to the love-tale of Francisco, and, retaining that
revelation of his affection a secret in her own breast.

Yet--had he not implored, had he not enjoined her to keep that avowal to
herself? Yes, and when she looked at the matter, as it were, face to
face, she could not justly reproach herself:--nevertheless, that secret
love weighed upon her conscience like a crime!

She could not understand wherefore Nisida's manner had changed toward
her. Francisco had assuredly made no communication to his sister; and
nothing had transpired to excite a suspicion of the real truth in her
mind. Still there _was_ a coolness on the part of that lady:--or might
it not be that Flora's imagination deceived her?

There was another, and even a more serious cause of grief weighing upon
her mind. Dispatches had been received from the nobleman in whose suit
her brother Alessandro had repaired to Constantinople; and the secretary
of the council of Florence