died a Satrap: I am bred one, let me reverse our lots, and die at least
a patriot."

At this moment the Evening Hymn to the Virgin arose from a neighbouring
convent. The stranger started as the sacred melody floated towards
him, and taking a small golden cross from his heart, he kissed it with
devotion, and then descending the steep of the citadel, entered the
city.

He proceeded alone the narrow winding streets of Athens until he at
length arrived in front of a marble palace, in the construction of
which the architect had certainly not consulted the surrounding models
which Time bad spared to him, but which, however, it might have
offended a classic taste, presented altogether a magnificent
appearance. Half-a-dozen guards, whose shields and helmets somewhat
oddly contrasted with the two pieces of cannon, one of which was
ostentatiously placed on each side of the portal, and which had been
presented to the Prince of Athens by the Republic of Venice, lounged
before the entrance, and paid their military homage to the stranger as
he passed them. He passed them and entered a large quadrangular
garden, surrounded by arcades, supported by a considerable number of
thin, low pillars, of barbarous workmanship, and various-coloured
marbles. In the midst of the garden rose a fountain, whence the
bubbling waters flowed in artificial channels through vistas of orange
and lemon trees. By the side of the fountain on a luxurious couch, his
eyes fixed upon a richly-illuminated volume, reposed Nicaeus, the
youthful Prince of Athens.

"Ah! is it you?" said the Prince, looking up with a smile, as the
stranger advanced. "You have arrived just in time to remind me that we