The duke, at the time of which we write, had retired, during the heat of the summer, to his country-house of Azeitao, on the borders of the Tagus, at some distance from Lisbon. A hot and sultry day was near drawing to a close, the setting sun just tingeing the topmost boughs of a grove of shining leaved orange-trees, beneath whose shade the master of the domain had for some time past been pacing, in no very enviable mood, it would seem, from the fierce and discontented expression which sat upon his brow, and the violent action in which he was indulging. His outward appearance certainly did not betoken his lofty birth and ancient lineage, except that the haughty and imperious air he wore showed that he was accustomed to have his commands implicitly obeyed; his figure being low, and destitute of symmetry and grace. "Curses on the man who has dared to come between me and my plans," he exclaimed, as he struck his clenched hand against his brow. "Trusting in the confidence the king has foolishly reposed in him, he has dared, not only to treat me, the chief noble in the realm, as an equal, forsooth, but with marked insult and disdain, to exhibit his hatred and jealousy of my rank; but he shall not continue so to do much longer, all powerful as he deems himself. Would that the assassin's knife could reach his bosom! but the fools are afraid of his giant strength and figure, and declare that no steel can harm him. Oh, that heaven or hell would send me aid to work out my vengeance!--I would give half my wealth to see him dead at my feet!" "What wouldst thou, my son?" said a voice, in a deep and hollow tone. He started, with horror on his countenance. His thoughts, his conscience told him, had been evil, and he was one over whom superstition and bigotry held full sway; for a moment, therefore, he expected to see the father of sin in a bodily presence rising up before him. He looked up, and beheld a dark figure of gigantic height, it seemed, amid the thickening shadows of the trees. A cold sweat stood on his brow. Had his dark thoughts then conjured up a spirit of evil? With noiseless steps the figure approached over the soft mossy ground, and, instead of the unwelcome visitor he had expected, he saw the Father Malagrida standing before him. He breathed more freely, and felt his courage revive in the presence of so righteous a man, whose sign alone was sufficient to keep at bay the whole infernal host. "What would you, my son?" repeated the Father. "Some half-uttered sentences fell on my ear, and I observed your violent action. Tell me, my son, what thoughts oppress your bosom, and I will pour balm into it." "Father, you cannot aid me," said the Duke; "it is beyond your province."