“Now,” she said, rubbing her thin hands together, and chafing the chain between them, “tell me, is this all? The chief takes one third of the whole, that is the law of the Cales.”
“No, there was gold, a thousand pieces, packed away upon a mule.”
“A thousand pieces! Oh, my son, I saw great luck in the stars for you—but a thousand pieces!—this is wonderful!”
“Besides, there was a watch with double case, all fine gold, and some rings which were too large for Aurora’s finger, so we buried them in the ground, with the gold and other treasures. Here is something. I am not sure about giving this to her, these glittering things on the back may be of value. I found it hung to the Busne’s neck by the chain; here is his own face, it may yet bring us into trouble. Look”——
The chief drew a locket from his bosom shaped like a cockle shell. The whole outside was paved with pearls swelling into the several compartments. The scalloped edges were bright with diamonds of great value. He touched a spring, and within this exquisite trinket two miniatures were revealed. One was that of a young man, fair, with a bright, clear complexion, fine eyes of greyish blue, a delicate forehead, pure as snow in color, and teeming with thought; a mouth somewhat full, and of deep coral red, with a fair curling beard of rich brown, kindled up by a tinge of gold; hair a little deeper in tint, but with the same metallic lustre breaking through its heavy waves. This was the face, fair, animated, and lighted up with a beautiful smile, that first presented itself to the old Sibyl’s gaze. She arose, took down the candle, and peered over it in silence. The contrast was striking, that tawny, witch-like countenance, and the beautiful shadows smiling out from its bed of jewels.
There was a female portrait on the other side; but it was that of a woman somewhat older than the youth could have been; but, though of different complexion, there was one of those indefinite resemblances between the two faces which exist independent of features, running through families, and connecting them in the eyes of the beholder with a subtle influence, as one feels that a rose is near, by the perfume which is itself impalpable.
The Sibyl only glanced at the female face, and turned to that of the young man again with keener interest. You could see by the workings of her face that she was beginning to hate that beautiful shadow; for there was a terrible gleam in her eye when she closed the shell with a snap, and clutched it in her hand.
“No,” she said, sharply, “my grand-daughter shall not wear this thing. The bright sparks are diamonds; the white ridges are of oriental pearls. But the face is that of the Busne; it does not belong to Spain either; hair and eyes of that color come from beyond sea. It is worth more than all your gold or the other trinkets; but she shall not wear it. I saw a face like this between me and the stars to-night. Was the man you plundered like it?”
“It was himself; two faces were never more alike!”
“And your knife, is it red? Did you leave him in the hills?”