"No--no!" responded Wagner, emphatically. "My fate is terrible indeed--but I am not beyond the pale of salvation. See! Agnes--I kiss the crucifix--the symbol of faith and hope!" And, as he uttered these words, he pressed to his lips an ivory crucifix of exquisite workmanship, which he took from the table. "The Virgin be thanked that my fearful suspicion should prove unfounded!" ejaculated Agnes. "Yes--I am not altogether lost," answered Wagner. "But _he_--the unhappy man who made me what I am---- And yet I dare not say more," he added, suddenly checking himself. "For one year and a half did I follow him as his servitor--profiting by his knowledge--gaining varied information from his experience--passing with the rapidity of thought from clime to clime--surveying scenes of ineffable bliss, and studying all the varieties of misery that fall to the lot of human nature. When he--my master--passed away----" "On the 1st of August, 1517," observed Agnes, quoting from the inscription beneath the portrait of the individual alluded to. "Yes; when he passed away," continued Wagner, "I continued my wanderings alone until the commencement of last year, when I settled myself in Florence. The mansion to which I have brought you is mine. It is in a somewhat secluded spot on the banks of the Arno, and is surrounded by gardens. My household consists of but few retainers; and they are elderly persons--docile and obedient. The moment that I entered this abode, I set to work to paint those portraits to which I have directed your attention--likewise these pictures," he added, glancing around, "and in which I have represented scenes that my own eyes have witnessed. Here, henceforth, Agnes, shalt thou dwell; and let the past be forgotten. But there are three conditions which I must impose upon thee." "Name them," said Agnes; "I promise obedience beforehand." "The first," returned Fernand, "is that you henceforth look upon me as your brother, and call me such when we are alone together or in the presence of strangers. The second is that you never seek to remove the black cloth which covers yon place----" Agnes glanced toward the object alluded to and shuddered--as if the veil concealed some new mystery. "And the third condition is that you revive not on any future occasion the subject of our present conversation, nor even question me in respect to those secrets which it may suit me to retain within my own breast." Agnes promised obedience, and, embracing Wagner, said, "Heaven has been merciful to me, in my present affliction, in that it has given me _a brother_!" "Thou speakest of thine afflictions, Agnes!" exclaimed Wagner; "this is the night of revelations and mutual confidences--and this night once passed, we will never again allude to the present topics, unless events should render their revival necessary. It now remains for thee to narrate to me all that has befallen thee since the winter of 1516."