which I had acquired in my own eyes, and at the prospect of a handsome remuneration for my services, from the lovely object of them.  Sanazio, with lamp in hand, and arrayed in his night attire, to my great terror and surprise, opened the door to me himself; it was very late, Druso had long since returned without me, and in order to allay the storm which I saw gathering upon mine ancient master’s brow, I slipped the gold given to me by the confidante of beautiful Antonia, into his unreluctant hand.

“Unhappy youth!” exclaimed Sanazio, “beware of aiding the nun, lest thou bring upon her and upon thyself the fate of Artemisia and Serventius.”

These words so alarmed me that I nearly fainted; for how, in the name of all things holy and gracious, came Sanazio to know in whose society I had passed the last hour, and what was the subject of our conversation?  His terrible allusion too, to those lost loved ones, of whose untimely fate I was still so ignorant, strangely troubled my conscious breast.  Let me be brief, the hours of my ill-fated existence are fast wearing away, and I have yet more to relate.  To Ignatius Druso I was obliged to confide my secret, because his assistance, in the furtherance of plans which were always requiring, from little immaterial circumstances, some slight alterations, was found necessary; and it must here suffice those to know, who shall, after my destruction do me the melancholy favour of perusing this retrospective record, that some months after Antonia had taken the veil, I succeeded in restoring her to the arms of her lover, witnessed their private nuptials, visited them in their new residence, a villa in a secluded spot far from Padua, and received my promised recompense.  “Young man! you’ve ruined yourself; and your fatal destiny is sealed!” were the remarkable words of Sanazio, on the morning after the completion of my enterprise, but long ere the elopement of the new devotee became publicly known.  However, he never reverted to the subject, not even upon his death-bed; and after the learned doctor’s decease, when I came into the whole of his practice, and no small portion of his fame, I was easy, for the memory of that sacrilege had passed away.

Ignatius Druso, like myself, resided in Padua, but soon quitted the medical profession, disgusted, I fancy, at finding that I had become a second Sanazio, whilst he commanded little or no attention:  still we were friends, nor did I suspect that the germs of envy and malice were sown in his bosom, and that I had trusted him with one secret, or more, too much.  “Serventius, my son,” had said the venerable Sanazio to me upon his death-bed, “your ardent desire of knowledge and discreet use of it, encourage me ere I quit this world, to entrust you with the grand arcanum of our art; as yet, you know not the secret of my success, but take then this hint and improve upon it.  Can he repair a piece of mechanism, who is ignorant of its make, its parts, and how they act upon, and affect one another?  Behold this key; it is that of my laboratory, and may it indeed open the door of knowledge to you.”