The fearful energy with which Maso uttered this solemn appeal, and a certain sincerity that marked his manner, and perhaps we might even say his character, in spite of the dissolute recklessness of his principles, served greatly to weaken the growing opinion in favor of his competitor.

“And this noble youth?” asked the sorrowing Doge—­“this generous and elevated boy, whom I have already held next to my heart, with so much of a father’s joy—­who and what is he?”

“Eccellenza, I wish to say nothing against the Signor Sigismondo.  He is a gallant swimmer, and a staunch support in time of need.  Be he Swiss, or Genoese, either country may be proud of him, but self-love teaches us all to take care of our own interests before those of another.  It Would be far pleasanter to dwell in the Palazzo Grimaldi, on our warm and sunny gulf, honored and esteemed as the heir of a noble name, than to be cutting heads in Berne; and honest Balthazar does but follow his instinct, in seeking preferment for his son!”

Each eye now turned on the headsman, who quailed not under the scrutiny, but maintained the firm front of one conscious that he had done no wrong.

“I have not said that Sigismund is the child of any,” he answered in his meek manner, but with a steadiness that won him credit with the listeners.  “I have only said that he belongs not to me.  No father need wish a worthier son, and heaven knows that I yield my own claims with a sorrow that it would be grievous to bear, did I not hope a better fortune for him than any which can come from a connexion with a race accursed.  The likeness which is seen in Maso, and which Sigismund is thought to want, proves little, noble gentlemen and reverend monks; for all who have looked closely into these matters know that resemblances are as often found between the distant branches of the same family, as between those who are more nearly united.  Sigismund is not of us, and none can see any trace of either my own or of Marguerite’s family in his person or features.”

Balthazar paused that there might be an examination of this fact, and, in truth, the most ingenious fancy could not have detected the least affinity in looks, between either of those whom he had so long thought his parents and the young soldier.

“Let the Doge of Genoa question his memory, and look farther than himself.  Can he find no sleeping smile, no color of the hair, nor any other common point of appearance, between the youth and some of those whom he once knew and loved?”

The anxious prince turned eagerly towards Sigismund, and a gleam of joy lighted his face again, as he studied the young man’s features.

“By San Francesco!  Melchior, the honest Balthazar is right.  My grandmother was a Venetian, and she had the fair hair of the boy—­the eye too, is hers—­and—­oh!” bending his head aside and veiling his eyes with his hand, “I see the anxious gaze that was so constant in the sainted and injured Angiolina, after my greater wealth and power had tempted her kinsmen to force her to yield an unwilling hand!—­Wretch! thou art not Bartolo; thy tale is a wicked deception, invented to shield thee from the punishment due to thy crime!”