Two days after the nocturnal scene we have described, a stranger appeared in the cell of the son of Signora Rovero. "Excuse me, sir," said he to the prisoner, "that I have thus intruded without an introduction. The motive, however, which conducts me hither will admit of no delay, and I am sure you will excuse me when you shall have learned it." Rovero bowed coldly, fancying that he had to do with some new police agent. "I am come to appeal to you in behalf of two ladies who worship you, and are inconsolable in your absence." "Two ladies!" said Rovero, with surprise. Yet, under the empire of passion, he added--"Signor, I love but one." He paused and was much confused by the avowal he had made. "At least," said the stranger, "you love three; for in a heart like yours family affections and a deeper passion exist together. The ladies of whom I speak, Signor, are your mother and sister." The prisoner blushed. His adored mother, his beautiful sister, were exiled from his memory! In the presence of a stranger, too, this filial crime was revealed; a despotic passion had made him thus guilty. "Signor," said he, "you have thought correctly. Notwithstanding the forgetfulness of my mind, with which though I protest my heart has nothing to do, their names are dear to me, and I pray you tell me what they expect from me." "They expect you to return," said the stranger. "A service I rendered them has made me almost a friend, and my interest in them has induced me to come without their consent to speak to you in their behalf." "Signor," said Rovero, "tell me to whom I have the honor to speak; not that a knowledge of your name will enhance my gratitude, but that I may know to whom I must utter it." "Signor, I am the Marquis de Maulear. Chance has revealed to me your strange rejection of the liberty which other prisoners would so eagerly grasp at. The minister has informed me of your motives, and, though honorable, permit me to suggest that you do not forget your duty. Did your mother know your condition, her life would be the sacrifice." Taddeo forgot all when he heard these words, admitting neither of discussion nor of reply. "Signor," continued Maulear, "what principle, what opinions can combat your desire to see your mother, and to rescue her from despair? Bid the logic of passion and political hatred be still, and hearken only to duty. Follow me, and by the side of your noble mother you will forget every scruple which now retains you." Rovero for some moments was silent. He then fixed his large black eyes on those of Maulear, and seemed to seek to read his thoughts. "Marquis," said he, "I scarcely know you, but there is such sincerity in your expression that I have confidence in you, and am about to prove it. Swear on your honor not to betray me, and I will tell you all." "I swear."