“For instance,” continued Mary’s father, “this is the eve of May, I need not ask if you intend to offer to Mary the homage of a serenade.  It is the custom of your countrymen to pay this attention to young girls, and you would not omit this opportunity were it not for the advice of a man of experience.  Geronimo, listen to the words of calm reason:  do not rashly expose yourself to the danger of death; abandon your design this time.  Many of your compatriots have aspired to Mary’s hand; they have been less successful than you, and on this account they may harbor unkind feelings towards you.”

The young man received this advice with a smile which indicated its refusal.

“It is difficult, sir, to speak of such things in the presence of the one who is to be the object of our homage.  Permit me, however, the liberty to decide upon the manner in which I will acquit myself of my duty to this young lady.”

“But permit me, signor, to tell you,” said the old man, in an offended tone, “that it does you no honor to reject the advice of a man of experience, in order to carry out an unimportant fancy.  Rashness does not indicate courage, but rather an absence of good sense.”

“Father,” exclaimed Mary, in a supplicating tone, “be not angry with Signor Geronimo; he will incur no danger.”

“Foolish confidence!” said the old man.  “Why should Geronimo think himself less exposed to danger than others?  That Geronimo should be rash is excusable; but, Mary, you deserve a severe reprimand for encouraging your friend in his perilous design.”

The young girl bowed her head at this reproof of her father, and murmured as if to excuse herself:  “Geronimo has a relic, father.”

This revelation embarrassed the young man, and he glanced reproachfully at Mary.

She said, caressingly: 

“Don’t be displeased, Geronimo; show the relic to my father, and he will then know why you do not fear that any accident will happen to you.”

The young man felt that he could not refuse Mary’s request.  He drew from under his doublet an object suspended on a steel chain, and, approaching Mr. Van de Werve, he placed it in his hand.

It was a flat medal of greenish copper, on which were engraven unknown letters and signs.  A cross between two bent sabres, and beneath them a crescent, filled up the centre of the medal.  At the foot of the cross was a gray stone, rudely inlaid.  The whole was rough and heavy.

Mr. Van de Werve examined this medal attentively for some time; he turned it over and over, as though he sought to comprehend the signification of this singular emblem.

“A relic!” he murmured.  “Here are two cimeters, a crescent, and cabalistic characters.  It is a Mohammedan talisman, and, perhaps, an emblem shocking to our holy religion!”

“You are certainly mistaken, sir,” replied Geronimo.

“Is not the cross placed above the crescent, and would not that signify that the faith of Christ has triumphed over the doctrines of Mahomet?”