“The arrests took place on the 3d of July,” said Demetrius; “and Angelo Duras undertook to obtain a postponement for three months. To-morrow, lady, is but the 26th of September.”

“True,” responded Nisida; “but were a delay granted, it would be for eight days—and thus you perceive how nicely Angelo Duras had weighed all the intricacies of the case, and how accurately he had calculated the length of the term to be gained by the exercise of the subtleties of the inquisitorial law. Therefore, as no advocate will appear to demand delay, Flora is certain to be condemned to-morrow night, and the release of Francisco may take place simultaneously—for when once the grand inquisitor shall have pronounced the extreme sentence, no human power can reverse it. And now,” added Nisida, “but one word more. The grand vizier commanded you to dispatch a courier daily to Leghorn with full particulars of all your proceedings; see that those accounts be of a nature to lull the treacherous Ibrahim into security—for, were he to learn that his aunt and sister are in dread peril, he would be capable of marching at the head of all his troops to sack the city of Florence.”

“Fear not on that subject, lady,” answered Demetrius. “I will so amuse the demon-hearted grand vizier by my dispatches, that he shall become excited with joyous hopes—so that the blow—the dread blow which we are preparing for him—may be the more terribly severe.”

The Greek then rose to take his leave of Donna Nisida; and Wagner, having closed the secret door as noiselessly as he had opened it, hurried away from the Riverola mansion bewildered and grieved at all he had heard—for he could no longer conceal from himself that a very fiend was incarnate in the shape of her whom he had loved so madly.

Having tossed on a feverish couch for upward of an hour,—unable to banish from his mind the cold blooded plot which Nisida and Demetrius had resolved upon in order to consign Flora Francatelli and her equally innocent aunt to the stake,—Wagner at last slept through sheer exhaustion. Then Christianus Rosencrux appeared to him in a dream and said:—“Heaven hath chosen thee as the instrument to defeat the iniquitous purposes of Riverola in respect of two guiltless and deserving women. Angelo Duras is an upright man; but he is deluded and misled by the representations made to him by Nisida, through his brother, the physician, relative to the true character of Flora. In the evening at nine o’clock, hie to Angelo Duras—command him in the name of justice and humanity, to do his duty toward his clients—and he will obey thee. Then, having performed this much, speed thou without delay to Leghorn, and seek the grand vizier, Ibrahim Pasha. To him shalt thou merely state that Demetrius is a traitor, and that tremendous perils hang over the heads of the vizier’s much-loved relatives. Manifest no hatred to the vizier on account of his late treacherous intention with regard to the honor of Nisida: for vengeance belongeth not to mortals. And in these measures only, of all the deeply ramified plots and designs which thou didst hear discussed between Nisida and Demetrius, shall thou interfere. Leave the rest to Heaven.”

The founder of the Rosicrucians disappeared: and when Fernand awoke late in the day—for his slumber had been long and deep—he remembered the vision which he had seen, and resolved to obey the order he had received.

Beneath the massive and heavy tower of the Palazzo del Podesta, or Ducal Palace of Florence, was the tribunal of the holy inquisition. Small, low, and terribly somber in appearance was this court—with walls of the most solid masonry, an arched roof, and a pavement formed of vast blocks of dark-veined marble. Thither the light of heaven never penetrated; for it was situate far below the level of the earth, and at the very foundation of that tower which rose, frowning and sullen, high above. Iron lamps diffused a lurid luster around, rendering ghastly the countenance alike of the oppressors and the oppressed; and when it was deemed necessary to invest the proceedings with a more awe-inspiring solemnity than usual, torches, borne by the familiars or officers of the inquisition, were substituted for these iron lamps. Over the judgment-seat was suspended a large crucifix. On one side of the court were three doors,—one communicating with the corridor and flight of stone steps leading to and from the tribunal; the second affording admission into the torture-chamber and the third opening to the prisons of the inquisition.

It was about seven o’clock in the evening, on the 26th of September, that Flora Francatelli and her aunt were placed before the grand inquisitor, to be examined for the second time. When the familiars, habited in their long, black, ecclesiastical dresses with the strange cowls or hoods shading their stern and remorseless countenances, led in the two females from the separate cells in which they had been confined, the first and natural impulse of the unhappy creatures was to rush into each other’s arms;—but they were immediately torn rudely asunder, and so stationed in the presence of the grand inquisitor as to have a considerable interval between them.

But the glances which the aunt and niece exchanged, gave encouragement and hope to each other, and the sentiments which prompted those glances were really cherished by the persecuted females; inasmuch as Father Marco, who had been permitted to visit them occasionally, dropped sundry hints of coming aid, and powerful, though invisible, protection—thereby cheering their hearts to some little extent, and mitigating the intensity of their apprehensions. Flora was very pale—but never, perhaps, had she appeared more beautiful—for her large blue eyes expressed the most melting softness, and her dark brown hair hung disheveled over her shoulders, while her bosom heaved with the agitation of suspense.

“Woman,” said the grand inquisitor, glancing first to the aunt and then to the niece, his eyes, however, lingering upon the latter, “know ye of what ye are accused? Let the younger speak first.”