For he saw that she was alone--beheld no traces of culture; and there was but one miserable dwelling, and that such as she might have built up with her own hands. Nisida shook her head mournfully, making signs that she was deaf and dumb. The Mussulman chief uttered an ejaculation of mingled surprise and grief, and surveyed the lady with additional interest and admiration. But in a few moments his countenance assumed a sudden expression of astonishment, as if a light had broken in upon him, suggesting something more than a mere suspicion--nay, indeed, a positive conviction; and having examined her features with the most earnest attention, he abruptly took his tablets from the folds of his garment, and wrote something on them. He then handed them to Nisida; and it was now her turn to experience the wildest surprise--for on the page opened to her view were these words, traced in a beautiful style of calligraphy, and in the Italian language: "Is it possible that your ladyship can be the Donna Nisida of Riverola?" Nisida's eyes wandered in astonishment from the tablets to the countenance of him who had penciled that question; but his features were certainly not familiar to her--and yet she thought that there was something in the general expression of that handsome face not altogether unknown to her. As soon as she had partially recovered from the surprise and bewilderment produced by finding that she at least was known to the Ottoman functionary, she wrote beneath his question the following reply: "I am indeed Nisida of Riverola, who for seven long months have been the only inhabitant of this island, whereon I was shipwrecked, and I am now anxious to return to Italy--or at all events to the first Christian port at which your fleet may touch. Have mercy upon me, then; and take me hence! But who are you, signor, that I should prove no stranger to you?" The Ottoman chief read these words, and hastened to reply in the following manner: "I have the honor to be the grand vizier of his imperial highness the glorious Sultan Solyman, and my name is Ibrahim. A few months ago I encountered your brother Francisco, Count of Riverola, who was then in command of a body of Tuscan auxiliaries, raised to assist in defending Rhodes against the invading arms of the mighty Solyman. Your brother became my prisoner, but I treated him worthily. He informed me with bitter tears of the strange and mysterious disappearance of his well-beloved sister, who had the misfortune to be deprived of the faculties of hearing and speech. Your brother was soon set free, after the fall of Rhodes, and he returned to his native city. But from all he told me of thee, lady, it was natural that I should ere now conjecture who thou must be."