he had long
since felt reconciled towards this too-well-remembered apparition, and
forgiven him; nevertheless his sudden appearance opened every wound
afresh. All those torturing hours of anguish, that wo which had
envenomed the bloom of his life, rushed back for a moment, crowding
upon his soul.

"What wishest thou, terrible one?" cried the Greek, as the apparition
still stood motionless upon the threshold. "Away with thee, that I may
curse thee not!"

"Zaleukos!" said a well-known voice from under the mask: "Zaleukos! is
it thus that you receive your guest?" The speaker removed the mask,
and threw back his cloak: it was Selim Baruch, the stranger! But still
Zaleukos seemed not at ease, for he too plainly recognised in him the
Unknown of the Ponte Vecchio: nevertheless, old habits of hospitality
conquered; he silently motioned to the stranger to seat himself at the
table.

"I can guess your thoughts," commenced the latter, when they had taken
their places: "your eyes look inquiringly upon me. I might have been
silent, and your gaze would never more have beheld me; but I owe you
an explanation, and therefore did I venture to appear before you in my
former guise, even at the risk of receiving your curse. You once said
to me, 'The faith of my fathers bids me love him; and he is probably
more unhappy than myself:' be assured of this, my friend, and listen
to my justification.

"I must begin far back, in order that you may fully understand my
story. I was born in Alexandria, of Christian parents. My father, the
youngest son of an ancient illustrious French family, was consul for
his native land in the city I have just mentioned. From my tenth year
I was brought up in France, by one of my mother's brothers, and left
my fatherland for the first time a few years after the revolution
broke out there, in company with my uncle, who was no longer safe in
the land of his ancestors, in order to seek refuge with my parents
beyond the sea. We landed eagerly, hoping to find in my father's house
the rest and quiet of which the troubles of France had deprived us.
But ah! in my father's house I found not all as it should be: the
external storms of these stirring times had not, it is true, reached
it; but the more unexpectedly had misfortune made her home in the
inmost hearts of my family. My brother, a promising young man, first
secretary of my father, had shortly before married a young lady, the
daughter of a Florentine noble who