liberation of a Jew who was imprisoned in the dungeons of the
inquisition: and this Jew, Venturo also learnt by subsequent inquiry
from Verrina, is a certain Isaachar ben Solomon."

"Isaachar ben Solomon!" ejaculated the count, the whole incident of the
diamonds returning with all its painful details to his mind. "Oh! no
wonder," he added, bitterly, "that the marquis has so much kindness for
him! I But, proceed--proceed, Antonio."

"I was about to inform your lordship," continued the valet, "that
Venturo, of whom I have spoken, happened the next day to overhear the
marquis inform the countess that he should be compelled to stay for that
purpose in Florence; whereupon Flora Francatelli offered her ladyship a
home at her aunt's residence, whither she herself should return on her
liberation from the stronghold. Then it was that the maiden mentioned to
the countess the name of her family, and when Venturo represented all
these facts to me just now, I at once knew who this same Flora
Francatelli is and where she dwells."

"You know where she dwells!" cried the count, joyfully. "Then, Giulia,
the false, the faithless, the perjured Giulia is in my power! Unless,
indeed," he added, more slowly--"unless she may have removed to another
place of abode----"

"That, my lord, shall be speedily ascertained," said Antonio. "I will
instruct my mother to call, on some pretext, at the cottage inhabited by
Dame Francatelli: and she will soon learn whether there be another
female resident there besides the aunt and the niece Flora."

"Do so, Antonio," exclaimed the count. "Let no unnecessary delay take
place. Here is gold--much gold, for thee to divide between thyself and
the bandit informant. See that thou art faithful to my interests, and
that sum shall prove but a small earnest of what thy reward will be."

The valet secured about his person the well-filled purse that was handed
to him, and retired.

The Count of Arestino remained alone to brood over his plans of
vengeance. It was horrible--horrible to behold that aged and venerable
man, trembling as he was on the verge of eternity, now meditating
schemes of dark and dire revenge. But his wrongs were great--wrongs
which, though common enough in that voluptuous Italian clime, and
especially in that age and city of licentiousness and debauchery, were
not the less sure to be followed by a fearful retribution, where
retribution was within the reach of him who was outraged.

"Ha! h