in the thoroughfare. The opening permitted the venerable noble, who has
already been presented to the reader, to advance to the gate, accompanied
by the female, and closely followed by the menials. The servitor of the
police saluted the stranger with deference, for his calm exterior and
imposing presence were in singular contrast with the noisy declamation
and rude deportment of the rabble that had preceded.

"I am Melchior de Willading, of Berne," said the traveller, quietly
offering the proofs of what he said, with the ease of one sure of his
impunity; "this is my child--my only child," the old man repeated the
latter words with melancholy emphasis, "and these, that wear my livery,
are old and faithful followers of my house. We go by the St. Bernard, to
change the ruder side of our Alps for that which is more grateful to the
weak--to see if there be a sun in Italy that hath warmth enough to revive
this drooping flower, and to cause it once more to raise its head
joyously, as until lately, it did ever in its native halls."

The officer smiled and repeated his reverences, always declining to
receive the offered papers; for the aged father indulged the overflowing
of his feelings in a manner that would have awakened even duller
sympathies.

"The lady has youth and a tender parent of her side," he said; "these are
much when health fails us."

"She is indeed too young to sink so early!" returned the father, who had
apparently forgotten his immediate business, and was gazing with a tearful
eye at the faded but still eminently attractive features of the young
female, who rewarded his solicitude with a look of love; "but thou hast
not seen I am the man I represent myself to be."