Israel, biting his lips with illy suppressed rage, could not help venting the bitterness of his soul, in a single word,—
"Devil," he hissed the word between his set teeth.
"Well, I am a devil Isr'el," answered Ninety-One good humoredly, "an' you're another. But you see there's two kind o' devils. I'll explain it to you. Once a little sneak of a devil came up to the head devil, (this happened in the lower regions,) and offered to take his arm, 'you're one devil, and I'm another, and so we're ekle,' says the little sneak of a devil. Now the head devil did not like this. He says, says he, to the little sneak, 'There's two kind o' devils, young gen'leman. There's me, for instance,—when I fell from Heaven. I showed pluck anyhow, and fell like a devil, and went about makin' stump speeches in the lower regions. But you,—you,—what was you doing meanwhile? Sneakin' out o' Heaven with your carpet-bag full of gold bricks, which you had stolen from the gold pavement.' Now Isr'el the name of the first devil was Beelzebub, and the little sneak of a devil was called, Mammon. Do you take?"
The eleven gentlemen with clubs, received this elegant apologue, with evident pleasure, manifesting their delight by a unanimous burst of laughter.
Israel said nothing, but evidently was absorbed in a multitude of reflections, not altogether of the most pleasant character.
In a short time, once more arrayed in his every-day attire he left the Temple, accompanied by Ninety-One, and followed by the eleven.
Hastening from the "Court of Ten Millions," his hands clasped tightly over his breast, and his steps trembling as he went, the judge was determined, at all hazards, to obtain an immediate interview with Frank. Hurrying along a dark passage, and then down the dark stairway,—for the lights had been extinguished, and the Temple was dark and silent as the tomb,—the judge muttered frequently the words "in this house,—in this house!" and then exclaimed,—"O, he cannot, cannot escape me! The hand of fate has led him hither."
He opened a door, and entered the magnificent apartment, in which, in the early part of the evening, Tarleton feasted with his friends, while at the head of the table, sat the corse of Evelyn Somers. Now all was dark and silent there.
The judge lost no time, but retraced his steps and hurried up-stairs. He presently entered the Central Chamber, where a few candles burned to their sockets, shed their pale and uncertain light, over the pictures and the mirrors, the tables coveted with flowers, and the lofty ceiling supported by marble pillars. When last we saw the Central Chamber, it was all life and motion; warm pulses were throbbing, bright eyes flashing there. Then gay and varied costumes glittered in the light, and each voluptuous recess, echoed to the sighs of passion. Now the scene presented that saddest of all spectacles,—the decaying lights of a festival, emitting their last dim gleam, upon the faded splendors of the forsaken festal hall. Popes, Caliphs, Cardinals, Quakeresses, Knights, Nymphs and Houris, all were gone. The place was silent as the grave, and much more sad.
A single form walked slowly up and down the silent hall,—a woman, whose noble person was attired in black velvet, her dark hair falling to her shoulders, and a white cross clustering on her brow. Her hands dropped listlessly by her side, and her dark eyes dilating in their sockets, were fixed in a vacant stare.