rs--articles of exclusive luxury at that period. The floor was
richly carpeted, and a perfumed lamp burned in front of the dial of a
water-clock.

Lomellino respectfully informed the marquis that one division of the
alcove was at his service; and Manuel was too much wearied by the
adventures of the evening not to avail himself of the information.

The brigand seeing that he was wounded, but without asking any questions
as to the cause, proffered his aid to divest the marquis of his upper
clothing; and at length the young nobleman was comfortably stretched in
one of the voluptuous beds.

Sleep had just closed his eyelids, and he had even already entered upon
a vision of fairy enchantment,--doubtless conjured up to his imagination
by the gorgeous spectacle of the treasure-room,--when he was startled by
screams which appeared to issue from the very wall of the alcove, at the
head of his bed.

He listened--and those screams became more and more piercing in their
nature, although their tone was subdued, as if by the existence of a
thick intervening partition.

"Holy Virgin! what sounds are those?" he exclaimed, more in pity than in
fear--for they were unmistakably female shrieks which he heard.

"Perdition seize on those Carmelite nuns!" cried Lomellino; "they seem
to have got another victim!"

"_Another victim!_" murmured the marquis falling back in his bed, a prey
to the most torturing feelings; and then his lips framed the sweet and
tender name of "GIULIA!"

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A FEARFUL ACCUSATION.

Fair and beauteous art thou, O City of Flowers! with thy domes and
spires, and turrets overlooking the Arno's silver stream, and crowding
together in that river's classic pale; surrounded, too, by oak-covered
hills, and cypress groves, and gardens of olives and evergreens, and
presenting to the view of the spectator who stands on the lofty summit
of Monte Senario, so vast an assemblage of palaces as to justify the
saying of Ariosto, that it seemed as if the very soil produced them!

Or seen from the olive-crowned hill of Fesole, consecrated by the genius
of Milton, how glorious is thy rich combination of beauty, thou Athens
of Etruria!

The sun dawned upon the eventful night, the incidents of which have
occupied so many chapters. The golden flood poured upon the Florentine
scene, so fair even in winter, bathing in yellow luster the mighty dome
of the cathedral of St. Mary, the ducal palace on its left, and