of human nature, allowed Sarah to believe in the death of Martin Paz. The girl's conversion seemed to him the matter of supreme importance, and presuming that this would be secured by her marriage with Andre, he tried to reconcile her to the union, without at all knowing the conditions under which it was concluded.
At length the day arrived, a day so full of congratulations to one party, so heavy in misgivings to the other. André Certa had issued his invitation to well-nigh the whole town, but had the mortification of finding that, under some pretext or other, all the superior families had excused themselves.
The hour struck at which the marriage contract had to be signed, and expectation rose to its height, when all became aware that the bride had not appeared.
The annoyance and alarm of the old Jew were intense. The frown that lowered on the brow of André Certa was the witness of mingled anger and amazement. Embarrassment seized every guest; and the whole scene was brought out in singular distinctness by the thousands of wax lights, whose rays were reflected from the countless mirrors.
Meanwhile, outside in the general thoroughfare, there was a man pacing up and down in a state of the wildest excitement. That man was the Marquis Don Vegal.
CHAPTER VIII
THE RESCUE
Throughout this period Sarah, a prey to the bitterest anguish, remained in the solitude of her own room. Nothing could induce her to quit it. Once, half stifled by her emotion, she sought relief by going to the balcony that overhung the garden below.
At that very instant she caught sight of a man wending his way through the groves of magnolias, and recognized her servant Liberta. To all appearance he was stealthily watching someone who did not see him. At one moment he was concealing himself behind a statue, at the next he was crouching on the grass.
Then all at once the girl turned pale. There was Liberta struggling with a tall man who had thrown him to the
