“Listen to me, Corvinus, for this is our last interview; and I rather like you, as a hearty, unscrupulous, relentless, and unfeeling good hater.” She drew him nearer and whispered: “I know from Eurotas, out of whom I can wheedle anything, that Fulvius has some splendid Christian prizes in view, one especially. Come this way into the shadow, and I will tell you how surely you may intercept his treasure. Leave to him the cool murder that will be necessary, for it may be troublesome; but step in between him and the spoil. He would do it to you any day.” She spoke to him for some minutes in a low and earnest tone; and at the end, he broke out into the loud exclamation, “Excellent!” What a word in such a mouth! She checked him by a pull, and pointing to the building opposite, exclaimed: “Hush! look there!” How are the tables turned; or, rather, how has the world gone round in a brief space! The last time these two wicked beings were on the same spot, plotting bane to others, the window above was occupied by two virtuous youths, who, like two spirits of good, were intent on unravelling their web of mischief, and countermining their dark approaches. They are gone thence, the one sleeping in his tomb, the other slumbering on the eve of execution. Death looks to us like a holy power, seeing how much he prefers taking to his society the good, rather than the evil. He snatches away the flower, and leaves the weed its poisonous life, till it drops into mature decay. But at the moment that they looked up, the window was occupied by two other persons. “That is Fulvius,” said Corvinus, “who just came to the window.” “And the other is his evil demon, Eurotas,” added the slave. They both watched and listened from their dark nook. Fulvius came again, at that moment, to the window, with a sword in his hand, carefully turning and examining the hilt in the bright moonlight. He flung it down at last, exclaiming with an oath, “It is only brass, after all.” Eurotas came with, to all appearance, a rich officer’s belt, and examined it carefully. “All false stones! Why, I declare the whole of the effects are not worth fifty pounds. You have made but a poor job of this, Fulvius.” “Always reproaching me, Eurotas. And yet this miserable gain has cost me the life of one of the emperor’s most favorite officers.” “And no thanks probably from your master for it.” Eurotas was right. Next morning, the slaves who received the body of Sebastian were surprised by a swarthy female figure passing by them, and whispering to them, “He is still alive.”