med to be
conjuring God in the name of a father's authority, disconcerted by his
fall, his knees shaking and his arm jarred, he felt the chills of death
running in his veins. Attempting, nevertheless, to master his emotion,
he took aim a second time; the bullet whistled by the fisherman's ear
and buried itself in the stem of a poplar.

The prince, with the energy of despair, seized the barrel of his weapon
in both hands; but Gabriel was coming forward with his axe, a terrible
foe, and his first stroke carried away the butt of the rifle. He was
still hesitating, however, to kill a defenceless man, when two armed
servants appeared at the end of the pathway. Gabriel did not see
them coming; but at the moment when they would have seized him by the
shoulders, Solomon uttered a cry and rushed to his son's assistance.

"Help, Numa! help, Bonaroux! Death to the ruffians! They want to murder
me."

"You lie, Prince of Brancaleone!" cried Gabriel, and with one blow of
the axe he cleft his skull.

The two bravoes who were coming to their master's assistance, when they
saw him fall, took flight; Solomon and his son went up to Nisida's
room. The young girl had just shaken off her heavy slumber; a slight
perspiration moistened her brow, and she opened her eyes slowly to the
dawning day.

"Why are you looking at me in that way, father?" she said, her mind
still wandering a littler and she passed her hand over her forehead.

The old man embraced her tenderly.

"You have just passed through a great danger, my poor Nisida," said he;
"arise, and let us give thanks to the Madonna."

Then all three, kneeling before the sacred image of the Virgin, began to
recite litanies. But at that very instant a noise of arms sounded in
the enclosure, the house was surrounded by soldiers, and a lieutenant
of gendarmes, seizing Gabriel, said in a loud voice, "In the name of the
law, I arrest you for the murder that you have just committed upon
the person of his excellency and illustrious lordship, the Prince of
Brancaleone."

Nisida, struck by these words, remained pale and motionless like a
marble statue kneeling on a tomb; Gabriel was already preparing to make
an unreasoning resistance, when a gesture from his father stopped him.

"Signor tenente," said the old man, addressing himself to the officer,
"my son killed the prince in lawful defence, for the latter had scaled
our house and made his way in at night and with arms in his hand. The
pr