Upon quitting the Arestino palace, the Marquis of Orsini suddenly lost that bold, insolent, self-sufficient air with which he had endeavored to deceive the venerable count, whose wife he had dishonored.

For dishonor now menaced him !

Where could he raise the sum necessary to liquidate the debt which he had contracted with the stranger at the Casino, or gaming-house? And as the person to whom he found himself thus indebted was a stranger—a total stranger to him, he had no apology to offer for a delay in the payment of the money due.

“Perdition!” he exclaimed aloud, as he issued rapidly from the grounds attached to the Arestino mansion; “is there no alternative save flight? Giulia cannot assist me—her jewels are gone, they are pledged to the Jew Isaachar—she was telling me so when the count broke in upon us. What course can I adopt? what plan pursue? Shall the name of Orsini be dishonored—that proud name which for three centuries has been maintained spotless? No, no—this must not be!”

And in a state of most painful excitement—so painful, indeed, that it amounted almost to a physical agony—the marquis hastened rapidly through the mazes of the sleeping city, reckless whither he was going, but experiencing no inclination to repair to his own abode.

The fact of the diamonds of his mistress having been pledged to Isaachar ben Solomon was uppermost in his mind: for the reader must remember that he was unaware of the circumstance of their restoration to Giulia—as it was at the moment when she was about to give him this explanation that the old Lord of Arestino had interrupted their discourse.

The diamonds, then, constituted the pivot on which his thoughts now revolved. They seemed to shine like stars amidst the deep haze which hung upon his mind. Could he not possess himself of them? The name of Orsini would be dishonored if the gambling debt were not paid; and one bold—one desperate step might supply him with the means to save himself from the impending ruin—the imminent disgrace.

But as the thoughts encouraged by those simple words—“the diamonds”—assumed a more palpable shape in his imagination, he shrank back dismayed from the deed which they suggested: for gamester, debauchee, spendthrift as he was, he had never yet perpetrated an act that could be termed a crime. The seduction of the Countess of Arestino was not a crime in his estimation—oh! no, because man may seduce, and yet may not be dishonored in the eyes of the world. It is his victim, or the partner of his guilty pleasure, only, who is dishonored. Such is the law written in society’s conventional code. Vile, detestable, unjust law!

To weigh and balance the reasons for or against the perpetration of a crime, to pause only for an instant to reflect whether the deed shall or shall not be done—this is to yield at once to the temptation. The desperate man who hovers hesitatingly between right and wrong, invariably adopts the latter course.

And Manuel of Orsini was not an exception to the general rule.

Silence, and calmness, and moonlight were still spread over the City of Flowers, while the marquis pursued the path leading to the suburb of Alla Droce. And the silver-faced stars shone on—shone on, brightly and sweetly, as the young nobleman knocked at the well-protected door of Isaachar ben Solomon.

For a long time his summons remained unanswered; and he repeated it several times ere it received the slightest attention.

At last a casement was opened slowly on the upper story; and the Jew demanded who sought admittance at that hour.

“’Tis I, the Marquis of Orsini!” exclaimed the nobleman.

“A thousand pardons, my lord; I come directly,” answered the Jew, not daring to offend a scion of the omnipotent aristocracy of Florence, yet filled with some misgivings, the more painful because they were so vague and undefined.

In a few moments Manuel was admitted into the abode of Isaachar ben Solomon, who carefully barred and bolted the door again, ere he even thought of alleviating his acute suspense by inquiring the nobleman’s business.

“Deign to enter this humble apartment, my lord,” said the Jew, at length, as he conducted the marquis into the same room where he had a few hours previously received the bandit-captain.

“Isaachar,” exclaimed Manuel, flinging himself upon a seat, “you behold a desperate man before you!”

“Alas! my lord, what can a poor, aged, and obscure individual like myself do to assist so great and powerful a noble as your lordship?” said the Jew in a trembling tone.

“What can you do?” repeated the marquis: “much—everything, old man! But listen patiently, for a few moments only. A noble lady’s fame, honor, reputation are at stake; and I am the guilty, unhappy cause of the danger that threatens her. To minister to my necessities she has pledged her jewels——”

“Yes, yes, my lord—I understand,” said Isaachar, trembling from head to foot, “’tis a plan by no means unusual nowadays in Florence.”

“Her husband suspects the fact, and has commanded her to produce her diamonds to-morrow——”

“Her diamonds!” articulated the Jew in a stifling tone.

“Yes, her diamonds ,” exclaimed Manuel emphatically; “and they are in your possession. Now do you understand me?”

“I—I—my lord——”

“Let us not waste time in idle words, Isaachar,” cried the marquis. “Will you permit this scandal to be discovered, and involve the Countess of Arestino—myself—ay, and yourself , old man, in danger, and perhaps ruin? Perhaps, did I say? Nay, that ruin is certain to fall upon her —certain also to overwhelm you —for the Count of Arestino is a councilor of state, and,” added Manuel, with slow, measured emphasis, “ the dungeons of the inquisition open at his commands to receive the heretic or the Jew!”

Isaachar ben Solomon vainly endeavored to reply; fear choked his utterance; and he sank trembling and faint upon a low ottoman, where he sat, the picture of dumb despair.

“Ruin, then, awaits the countess, ruin, and the inquisition yawn to ingulf you; and dishonor in having involved that noble lady in such a labyrinth of perils attends upon me,” continued Orsini, perceiving that his dark threats had produced the effect which he desired.

“My lord—my lord,” gasped the unfortunate Israelite, who could not close his eyes against the truth, the terrible truth of the prospect submitted to his contemplation.

“It is for you to decide against the ruin of one, two, three persons, yourself being he who will, if possible, suffer most,” resumed the marquis, impressively—“it is, I say, for you to decide between exposure and the inquisition on one hand, and the surrender of those paltry diamonds on the other!”

“The diamonds, the diamonds, they are gone!” exclaimed the Jew, his voice becoming almost frantic with the wild hope that suddenly struck him of being able to shift the danger from his own head to that of another. “The captain of banditti, Stephano Verrina, was here a few hours ago, here, in this very room, and he sat where your lordship now sits!”

“Well, well?” cried the marquis, impatiently; for his heart began to grow sick with the fear of disappointment in respect to his plan of obtaining the diamonds of his mistress.

“And Stephano Verrina took them from me—basely, vilely, wrenched them as it were from my grasp!” continued the Jew.

“’Tis false! a miserable subterfuge on your part!” ejaculated the marquis, starting from his seat and striding in a menacing manner toward Isaachar ben Solomon.

“’Tis true!—I will give your lordship the proof!” cried the Jew: and Manuel fell back a few paces. “Stephano came and told me all. He said that the countess had pledged her jewels for the sake of her lover—of you, my lord—you, the Marquis of Orsini. ’Twas to pay a gambling debt which your lordship had contracted; and that debt was paid within an hour or two from the moment when the sum was advanced on the diamonds. Moreover,” continued Isaachar, still speaking in a rapid, excited tone—“moreover, Stephano was hired by the countess to regain them from me!”

“Liar!” thundered the marquis, again rushing toward the defenseless old man.

“Patience, my lord—patience for an instant—and you will see that I am no utterer of base falsehoods. The robber-captain examined the diamonds carefully—yes, most carefully—and, while occupied in the scrutiny, he let drop expressions which convinced me that he was hired by the countess. ‘The inventory is complete,’ he said, ‘just as it was described to me by her ladyship. You are a worthy man, Isaachar,’ he added; ‘you will have restored tranquillity to the mind of this beautiful countess; and she will be enabled to appear at court to-morrow with her husband.’ Now does your lordship believe me?”

The marquis was staggered; for several minutes he made no answer. Was it possible that the Countess of Arestino could have employed the dreaded chieftain of the Florentine banditti to wrest her diamonds from the possession of Isaachar? or had the Jew invented the tale for an obvious purpose? The latter alternative scarcely seemed feasible. How could Isaachar have learned that the sum raised was for the payment of a gambling debt? Giulia would not have told him so. Again, how had he learned that this debt had been paid within an hour or two after the money was procured? and how had he ascertained that the countess had actually required her diamonds to accompany her husband the count?

“Perdition!” ejaculated Orsini, bewildered by conflicting ideas, suspicions, and alarms: and he paced the room with agitated steps.

Nearly a quarter of a hour elapsed—the silence being occasionally broken by some question which the marquis put to the Jew, and to which the latter had his reply ready. And each question thus put, and every answer thus given, only served to corroborate Isaachar’s tale, and banish hope still further from the breast of the ruined nobleman.

At length the latter stopped short—hesitated for a few moments, as if wrestling with some idea or scheme that had taken possession of his mind;—then turning abruptly toward the Jew, he said in a deep, hollow tone—“Isaachar, I need gold!”

“Gold—gold, my lord!” ejaculated the Jew, all his fears returning; “surely—surely, my lord, her ladyship will supply you with——”

“Fool—dolt!” cried the marquis, terribly excited; “do you not see that she herself is menaced with ruin—that the villain Stephano must have kept the diamonds for himself? that is, granting your tale to be true——”

At this moment there was an authoritative knock at the house-door.

“This is Stephano Verrina himself!” exclaimed the Jew. “I know his manner of knocking with the rude handle of his sword. What can he want? What will become of me?”

“Stephano Verrina, say you?” cried the marquis, hastily. “Then admit him by all means; and the possession of the diamonds of the countess shall be disputed between him and me at the sword’s point.”

Manuel d’Orsini was naturally brave, and the desperate position in which he was placed, rendered his tone and bearing so resolute—so determined, that Isaachar feared lest blood should be shed in his dwelling.

“My lord—my lord,” he said in an imploring tone, “depart, or conceal yourself——”

“Silence, signor!” ejaculated the marquis; “and hasten to admit the captain of banditti. I have heard much of Stephano Verrina, and would fain behold this formidable chieftain.”

The Jew proceeded, with trembling limbs and ghastly countenance, to obey the orders of the marquis; and in a few moments he returned to the room, accompanied by Stephano Verrina. LAWQb8pH+hNdtgMeWPxzq65rwVK4QjYD1AJ1yT9jbCL7AU95L9DfjqxGXqzdmck8