“When I told her she was free, and that she could accompany me to her native land, she was almost wild with joy; she laughed and wept by turns; she cast herself upon the ground, and raising her hands to heaven, thanked God; she embraced my knees and watered my feet with her tears.  Not knowing how to testify her gratitude, she drew this strange amulet from her bosom and presented it to me, conjuring me to wear it always.  She told me that it possessed the power of protecting and saving the one who carried it on his person, when all human aid failed or was insufficient.  As to the origin of the amulet, she only knew that it had been brought back from Jerusalem by one of her ancestors, who had made a pilgrimage thither in expiation of an involuntary homicide, and from that time it had been, religiously guarded in their family as a precious relic.  She had no doubt of its power, and related many strange things to justify her faith.  She maintained that she owed to the amulet her unexpected return to Italy.”

“Does she still live?” asked Mary.

“When in sight of Italy, I put her on board of a boat bound to Porto Fiero; I gave her a small sum of money, and begged the boatman to attend to her comforts.  Poor Teresa Mostajo—­that is her name—­I doubt not, is living peacefully in her native village, and prays much for me.  This is the only reason why I attribute any virtue to the amulet; I believe in the protection of this sign because it has been sanctified by an act of Christian charity, and by the grateful prayers of the poor blind woman tormented by the pagans for the name of Christ.”

The old cavalier remained a moment silent, absorbed in thought.  Then taking the hand of the young man, he said to him:  “I did not know you before, Geronimo.  I hope it may be in my power to prove to you how much your generosity ennobles you and elevates you in my esteem; but although your confidence in the amulet rests on so laudable a sentiment, I would not rely too much upon it.  You know the proverb says:  ’Help yourself, and Heaven will help you.’”

“Do not suppose, Mr. Van de Werve, that on that account I would be guilty of any foolish imprudence.  I know that the eye and sword are good sentinels.  When I pass through the streets at night, I am always well accompanied, and my hand never leaves the hilt of my sword.  Therefore have no anxiety on this point, and permit me to perform my duty to her to whom I owe homage and respect.”

At that moment the painted—­glass windows trembled under the stroke of a large clock from some neighboring belfry.  This suddenly turned Mary’s thoughts into another channel.

“The clock of St. James is striking ten,” she said.

“Father, will you walk with me to the dock-yard to see if any new ships have arrived?”

“What is the hour of high tide?” her father asked Geronimo.

“At noon,” he replied.

“Why need we go so soon to the dock-yard?” asked the old cavalier.  “Many days may yet pass before the Il Salvatore appears in the Scheldt.  Do not fear, Mary, that the Signor Deodati will take us by surprise.  Don Pezoa, the agent of the king of Portugal, has given orders that I shall be notified as soon as the galley we are awaiting is signaled in the river, at noon.”