dreaded being;—to the contrary, a look of gratification appeared upon his flushed features, and he exclaimed,
"Thank God! I have found you!"
"Indeed! And what may you want with the mask?" asked that personage, in a deep voice, while his eyes roved like lightning flashes over the form before him.
"Your aid. Thou art a man whose power, for good or evil, is greater than that possessed by all Rome."
"You forget the Pope!" suggested the mask, with a slight bow.
"No, I do not forget; nor will I retract my words in favor of the Pope—God's curse be upon him!"
"Ah!" and the mask started. "Why speak so sternly of him?"
"Because he is a villain!"
Again the mask started.
"It is not well for you to speak thus boldly. Walls have ears, it is said, and Rome has spies more useful than walls. You had better curb this bold spirit, or it may lead you into difficulty."
"I care not. What is life to me? A curse, signor—a curse! I have been most foully wronged, and have come to secure thy aid for redress. Shall I have it?"
"Always, in a good cause. But tell me thy wrongs?"
"My daughter, signor,—the idol of my heart,—has been seized by the minions of Pope Alexander VI., and is confined a prisoner in his private residence, as I have learned from a note from her, written in her blood, which she bribed a troubadour to bring to me!"
The mask started more violently than before, and turned towards the old man.
"And your daughter's name is—"
