"I have been reading an old classic author lately," said he, "and
met with a story that strangely interested me. Possibly you may
remember it. It is of an Indian prince, who sent a beautiful
woman as a present to Alexander the Great. She was as lovely as
the dawn and gorgeous as the sunset; but what especially
distinguished her was a certain rich perfume in her
breath--richer than a garden of Persian roses. Alexander, as was
natural to a youthful conqueror, fell in love at first sight with
this magnificent stranger; but a certain sage physician,
happening to be present, discovered a terrible secret in regard
to her."

"And what was that?" asked Giovanni, turning his eyes downward to
avoid those of the professor

"That this lovely woman," continued Baglioni, with emphasis, "had
been nourished with poisons from her birth upward, until her
whole nature was so imbued with them that she herself had become
the deadliest poison in existence. Poison was her element of
life. With that rich perfume of her breath she blasted the very
air. Her love would have been poison--her embrace death. Is not
this a marvellous tale?"

"A childish fable," answered Giovanni, nervously starting from
his chair. "I marvel how your worship finds time to read such
nonsense among your graver studies."

"By the by," said the professor, looking uneasily about him,
"what singular fragrance is this in your apartment? Is it the