appiness.

"Adieu, my friends," said he to the crowd. "Count Monte-Leone will never
forget these proofs of your sympathy, and you may rely on him, his arm,
his heart, his fortune, as he does on you."

Taking Taddeo by the arm, he hurried into a neighboring street,
accompanied at a little distance by Giacomo, who, as he panted after
them, cried out, "Too fast, too fast--what the devil can I do? My legs
are worn out--remember I came from the villa to _la Vicaria_ on foot to
bring your ring to the Grand Judge."

"My ring!"--then looking anxiously at Giacomo, and in a low tone, he
said:

"Are you sure it is my ring?"

"Yes, I swear to it by the blood of Christ and by your life."

"My friends," said the Count, "we have strange secrets to talk of when
we are in a safe place. And there the ear and lip must be close
together, so that not even the walls of the room in which we are shall
be struck by the sound of our accents. Wait for me at the Etruscan
villa. In two hours I will rejoin you."

"Why not go thither now?" asked Taddeo.

"Two hours hence I will tell you."

Without speaking a word, and without listening to Rovero's reply,
Monte-Leone put on a cloak the old intendant had brought and passed into
a labyrinth of passages, with the intricate windings of which his
political associations had made him familiar. An hour after the Count so
brusquely left Taddeo and the old intendant, he paused at the door of
one of the most ancient churches in Naples, an old pile, built in 1284,
and called _San Domenico Maggiore_. It is of vast size, built in the
Gothic style, and has a magnificent picture of Titiano, the Flagellation
of Caravaggio, and in the sacristy a glory by Solimene. But not to
contemplate them had Monte-Leone come to the church. A deeply-rooted
sentiment forced him, for a few moments, to pause beneath the old
portico before he entered the sanctuary.

Nothing is more touching, more poetical, and more mysterious, than the
old Christian temples, which like giants of stone have braved the
ravages of time and the hands of men. Generations, as they pass away,
worship beneath their arches, and the prayers of many centuries have
echoed in their walls, which are yet open to coming time.

The deep notes of the organ attracted the attention of Monte-Leone and
increased his excitement. He crossed the church, went down the nave, and
approached a lateral chapel where a taper was burning with a flickering
light. The Count