the victim whom she was about to sacrifice.

"One evening--I have just finished, my lord--the princess chose to sup
alone with her lady-in-waiting: the rarest fruits, the most exquisite
dishes, and the most delicate wines were served to my poor mother, whose
prolonged privations had injured her health and weakened her reason; she
gave way to a morbid gaiety. Diabolical philtres were poured into her
cup; that is another tradition in your family. My mother felt uplifted,
her eyes shone with feverish brilliance, her cheeks were on fire. Then
the prince came in--oh! your excellency will see that God protects the
poor. My darling mother, like a frightened dove, sheltered herself in
the bosom of the princess, who pushed her away, laughing. The poor
distraught girl, trembling, weeping, knelt down in the midst of that
infamous room. It was St. Anne's Day; all at once the house shook, the
walls cracked, cries of distress rang out in the streets. My mother was
saved. It was the earthquake that destroyed half Naples. You know all
about it, my lord, since your old palace is no longer habitable."

"What are you driving at?" cried Brancaleone in terrible agitation.

"Oh, I merely wish to persuade you that you must fight with me," answered
the fisherman coldly, as he offered him a cartridge. "And now," he
added, in an excited tone, "say your prayers, my lord; for I warn you,
you will die by my hand; justice must be done."

The prince carefully examined the powder and shot, made sure that his
rifle was in good condition; loaded it, and, eager to make an end, took
aim at the fisherman; but, either because he had been so much disturbed
by his opponent's terrible tale, or, because the grass was wet from the
storm, at the moment when he put forward his left foot to steady his