wreathed with a stern yet mournful expression, as she paused before the young beauty, leaning upon a cane.
Lucretia Borgia started, and uttered an exclamation of surprise, as she turned and beheld the countenance of her visitor.
"Mad Seta here!" she exclaimed, as a shudder crept over her form.
"Ay, mad Seta!" and the weird woman laughed,—"yet is not this very madness, that is so reviled, a glorious gift, that does away with the narrow limits in which the sane mind is confined? The mad see strange sights, and hear strange things, that are not known to the common mind. The veil is removed, and they penetrate mysteries at which the common herd cannot even grasp. Mad! Yes, yes, girl; but I have seen sights worthy of a deeper madness than mine. I've seen a living hell, disgorging friends in showers upon a stricken world, and on a throne that's red with blood have seen the choicest of Satan's master spirits—ay, Alexander Borgia!"
"Peace, woman! This Alexander Borgia, whom thou speakest so lightly of, is my father!"
"And such a father! Can a serpent father doves—a devil be a kin to angels? I tell thee, girl, thou knowest not what thou art saying. Thy father! Thou hadst better claim relationship to Satan himself!"
"Hold! or he shall hear and resent thy words!"
"Dost thou, too, threaten me? But go and call him. Already has he warned me never to cross the threshold of this palace—but I am here, and one word from you will call those who do not hold his orders lightly. Will you call?"
