"Oh! they will not try the trick," said Mardocchi, with a countenance somewhat fallen, "at least, they would try all other measures first. I doubt not that if his Holiness will give up Zizim to King Charles that will settle all differences." "And who is Zizim?" asked Antonio. "Why, do you not know?" exclaimed Mardocchi; "that shows the king's secrets are well kept in his own camp. Hark ye!" and lowering his voice he went on to explain to his companion not only who the unfortunate Zizim was, but the object which the King of France was supposed to have in view in seeking to obtain possession of his person. The tale was full of scandal to Christian ears, but seemed to shock Mardocchi not in the least; and as it was somewhat long, as he told it, it shall be abridged for the reader's benefit. Zizim was the brother of the Sultan Bajazet, some indeed say, his elder brother. At all events he was his competitor for the throne of Turkey. Their respective claims had been settled for a time at least by arms. Zizim defeated, was fortunate enough to escape from the vengeful policy of the Ottoman race, and first took refuge, it would seem, with the Knights of St. John at Rhodes. He thence sailed to France, and appeared for a short time at the court of Charles. The pope, however, who was alternately the ally and enemy of every prince around him, at that time actually contemplated a new crusade, and believed, or affected to believe, that Zizim, appearing in his brother's territories, supported by a considerable force, might subserve his plans, by destroying the Ottoman dominions. This at least was his excuse for inviting the unhappy prince from Paris to Rome. Charles consented to his departure, but upon the express stipulation that Alexander should give him up to France whenever he was required. With the usual mutability of the Papal councils at that time, however, but a few months elapsed ere Alexander was the friend and ally of Bajazet, and the life of Zizim was placed in no slight peril. Charles had in vain required that the pope should fulfil his engagement by sending the Turkish prince back to France. It must not, however, be supposed that the French king was actuated solely by compassion for the unfortunate exile. He too had ambitious ends to attain, and he too imagined that Zizim might assist in the execution of his schemes. History leaves no doubt that the conquest of Naples, though the primary, was not the ultimate object of Charles's expedition into Italy. The wildest of chimeras possessed his brain, and he imagined that the whole Turkish empire was destined to fall before his inefficient means and inexperienced sword. Naples was to be, in fact, but a step to Constantinople. Flatterers and poets combined to raise the young king's vain intoxication to the highest pitch, and we find one of the latter singing of the conquest of Turkey as an event almost accomplished.