"She is called La Belle Floretta!"
"And you—"
"I am Michael Delano—her father!"
The mask uttered an involuntary exclamation of surprise.
"By Heavens!" he muttered, sotto voce, "it is singular that he should come to me for redress—he! the very father of my victim!"
"What say you?"
"That I would know how I can be of service to you."
"O, signor, any movement of thine in my favor will be of invaluable service to me. In all Rome, there is not a man as dreaded as thou—not one who has the liberty and authority that is given to thee. Thou canst go everywhere, and do anything that it is your pleasure to do. Thou hast the power to restore my child to me;—O, have mercy on a poor old father, and bring her back to my arms."
"And dost thou think that I can baulk the Pope himself, in his designs on your daughter?"
"I never thought of the danger—of the greatness of the attempt to regain my child. But, canst thou not do something for me?—canst thou not make one effort for her escape from the monster who has torn her from me?"
"Perhaps the mask can do more for thee than thou thinkest. But, hist! There comes one who has business of importance with me. Stand thou aside for a moment, while I learn the object of this visit."
The old man obeyed, retiring to the shade cast by another pillar. As he did so, a man, disguised with a huge beard, and wearing a blood-red cloak, ascended the steps, bowed three times, and handed a packet of papers to the
