ed very low, "Tonino, when you look upon my
shrivelled features, does there not dawn upon your mind the slightest,
faintest recollection of having known me formerly a long, long time
ago?" "I have already told you, old woman," replied Antonio in the same
low tones, and without turning round, "I have already told you, that I
feel drawn towards you in a way that I can't explain to myself, but I
don't attribute it to your ugly shrivelled face. Nay, when I look at
your strange black glittering eyes and sharp nose, at your blue lips
and long chin, and bristly grey hair, and when I hear your abominable
chuckling and laughing, and your confused talk, I rather turn away from
you with disgust, and am even inclined to believe that you possess some
execrable power for attracting me to you." "O God! God! God!" whined
the old dame, a prey to unspeakable pain, "what fiendish spirit of
darkness has put such fearful thoughts into your head? O Tonino, my
darling Tonino, the woman who took such tender loving care of you when
a child, and who saved your life from the most threatening danger on
that awful night--it was I."

In the first moments of startled surprise Antonio turned round as if
shot; but then he fixed his eyes upon the old woman's hideous face and
cried angrily, "So that is the way you think you are going to befool
me, you abominable insane old crone! The few recollections which I have
retained of my childhood are fresh and lively. That kind and pretty
lady who tended me--Oh! I can see her plainly now! She had a full
bright face with some colour in it--eyes gently smiling-beautiful
dark-brown hair--dainty hands; she could hardly be thirty years old,
and you--you, an old woman of ninety!" "O all ye saints of Heaven!"
interrupted the old dame, sobbing, "all ye blessed ones, what shall I
do to make my Tonino believe in me, his faithful Margaret?" "Margaret!"
murmured Antonio, "Margaret! That name falls upon my ears like music
heard a long long time ago, and for a long long time forgotten.
But--no, it is impossible--impossible." Then the old dame went on more
calmly, dropping her eyes, and scribbling as it were with her staff on
the ground, "You are right; the tall handsome man who used to take you
in his arms and kiss you and give you sweets was your father, Tonino;
and the language in which we spoke to each other was the beautiful
sonorous German. Your father was a rich and influential merchant in
Augsburg. His young and lovely