y; long lines of lightning,
rending the sides of the clouds, bathed everything in their tawny and
intermittent light. The fisherman perceived a ladder leaning against the
front of his home, seized it with a convulsive hand, and in three bounds
flung himself into the room. The prince felt himself strangely moved on
making his way into this pure and silent retreat. The calm and gentle
gaze of the Virgin who seemed to be protecting the rest of the sleeping
girl, that perfume of innocence shed around the maidenly couch, that
lamp, open-eyed amid the shadows, like a soul in prayer, had inspired
the seducer with an unknown distress. Irritated by what he called an
absurd cowardice, he had extinguished the obtrusive light, and was
advancing towards the bed, and addressing unspoken reproaches to
himself, when Gabriel swooped upon him with a wounded tiger's fierce
gnashing of the teeth.

Brancaleone, by a bold and rapid movement that showed no common degree
of skill and bravery, while struggling in the grasp of his powerful
adversary, drew forth in his right hand a long dagger with a fine barbed
blade. Gabriel smiled scornfully, snatched the weapon from him, and even
as he stooped to break it across his knee, gave the prince a furious
blow with his head that made him stagger and sent him rolling on the
floor, three paces away; then, leaning over his poor sister and gazing
on her with hungry eyes, by the passing gleam of a flash, "Dead!" he
repeated, wringing his arms in despair,--"dead!"

In the fearful paroxysm that compressed his throat he could find no
other words to assuage his rage or to pour forth his woe. His hair,
which the storm had flattened, rose on his head, the marrow of his bones
was chilled, and he felt his tears rush back upon his heart. It was a
terrible moment; he forgot that the murderer still lived.

The prince, however, whose admirable composure did not for a moment
desert him, had risen, bruised and bleeding. Pale and trembling with
rage, he sought everywhere for a weapon with which to avenge himself.
Gabriel returned towards him gloomier and more ominous than ever, and
grasping his neck with an iron hand, dragged him into the room where the
old man was sleeping.

"Father! father! father!" he cried in a piercing voice, "here is the
Bastard who Has just murdered Nisida!"

The old man, who had drunk but a few drops of the narcotic potion, was
awakened by this cry which echoed through his soul; he arose as