hat of the sovereign, ere he
could hope to receive the fair hand of his mysterious patroness as the
crowning joy of his prosperity, for her image, her charming image, ever
dwelt in his mind, and an ardent fancy often depicted her as she
appeared, in all the splendor of her beauty, reclining on the sofa at
the dwelling to which he had been conducted with so much precaution, as
detailed in a preceding chapter. On the following day peace was formally
concluded between the Ottomans and the knights of Rhodes, the latter
consenting to surrender the island to the formidable invaders. An
exchange of prisoners was the result, and Francisco, Count of Riverola,
again found himself free within twenty-four hours after his capture.

"Your lordship is now about to sail for your own clime," said Ibrahim,
when the moment of separation came. "Is there aught within my power that
I can do to testify my friendship for one so brave and chivalrous as
thou art?"

"Nothing, great pasha!" exclaimed Francisco, who felt his sympathy
irresistibly attracted toward Ibrahim, he knew not why, "but, on the
other hand, receive my heartfelt thanks for the kindness which I have
experienced during the few hours I have been thy guest."

"The history of thy afflictions has so much moved me," said Ibrahim
Pasha, after a brief pause, "that the interest I experience in your
behalf will not cease when you shall be no longer here. If then you
would bear in mind the request I am about to make, gallant
Christian----"

"Name it!" cried Francisco; "'tis already granted!"

"Write me from Florence," added Ibrahim, "and acquaint me with the
success of thy researches after thy lost sister and the maiden whom thou
lovest. The ships of Leghorn trade to Constantinople, whither I shall
speedily return, and it will not be a difficult matter to forward a
letter to me occasionally."

"I should be unworthy of the kind interest you take in my behalf, great
pasha, were I to neglect this request," answered Francisco. "Oh! may the
good angels grant that I may yet recover my beloved sister Nisida, and
that sweetest of maidens--Flora Francatelli!"

Francisco was too overpowered by his own emotions to observe the sudden
start which Ibrahim gave, and the pallor which instantaneously
overspread his cheeks as the name of his sister thus burst upon his
ears--that sister who, beyond doubt, had disappeared most strangely.

But, with an almost superhuman effort, he subdued any further