s of his committing some
indiscretion. Afterwards he was made to promise that he would not make
the least attempt to raise the bandage. He promised. Then his two guides
took his arms, and he went on, guided by them, and preceded by the
sentinel. After going about thirty paces, he smelt the appetizing odor
of the kid that was roasting, and knew thus that he was passing the
bivouac; they then led him on about fifty paces farther, evidently
advancing towards that part of the shore where they would not allow
Gaetano to go--a refusal he could now comprehend. Presently, by a change
in the atmosphere, he knew that they were entering a cave; after going
on for a few seconds more he heard a crackling, and it seemed to him as
though the atmosphere again changed, and became balmy and perfumed. At
length his feet touched on a thick and soft carpet, and his guides let
go their hold of him. There was a moment's silence, and then a voice, in
excellent French, although, with a foreign accent, said, "Welcome, sir.
I beg you will remove your bandage." It may be supposed, then, Franz
did not wait for a repetition of this permission, but took off
the handkerchief, and found himself in the presence of a man from
thirty-eight to forty years of age, dressed in a Tunisian costume--that
is to say, a red cap with a long blue silk tassel, a vest of black cloth
embroidered with gold, pantaloons of deep red, large and full gaiters
of the same color, embroidered with gold like the vest, and yellow
slippers; he had a splendid cashmere round his waist, and a small
sharp and crooked cangiar was passed through his girdle. Although of a
paleness that was almost livid, this man had a remarkably handsome face;
his eyes were penetrating and sparkling; his nose, quite straight, and
projecting direct from the brow, was of the pure Greek type, while
his teeth, as white as pearls, were set off to admiration by the black
mustache that encircled them.

His pallor was so peculiar, that it seemed to pertain to one who had
been long entombed, and who was incapable of resuming the healthy glow
and hue of life. He was not particularly tall, but extremely well made,
and, like the men of the south, had small hands and feet. But what
astonished Franz, who had treated Gaetano's description as a fable,
was the splendor of the apartment in which he found himself. The entire
chamber was lined with crimson brocade, worked with flowers of gold. In
a recess was a kind of divan,