"Not if thou wilt hold thy peace in reference to my father."
"Enough. Now, thy fortune!" and the old woman raised the maiden's hand. Earnestly she looked at it, for several minutes, without uttering a word; yet a strange flush appeared upon her face as she regarded it. The observation ended, she arose and turned upon her heel, and was passing from the apartment without uttering a word, when Donna Lucretia called her back.
"Stay, good Seta—you have not told me the fate you have read!"
"Nor will I!" and again the weird woman moved on. Donna Lucretia detained her.
"I see by thy looks thou hast read something of importance. Give me thy knowledge before you go."
"Thou hast told me not to speak it!"
"How?"
"I speak of Alexander Borgia, or not at all!" and again the fortune-teller essayed to move on.
"Ah, this is some idle whim—but I will humor it. Be seated, good Seta, and tell me what thou readest from my hand;" and, despite her habitual self-possession, a look of anxiety appeared on her face.
"I read a tale it were not well to speak in detail—yet, beware of Alexander Borgia!"
"Woman," exclaimed Donna Lucretia, sternly, "you trifle with me. You presume upon my forbearance, or my womanly weakness. If gold is thy object in visiting me, take this, and trouble me with no more of this mummery!"
"No, no,—I do not want thy gold. I came not here for gain, but to warn thee of evils. A cloud is hanging
