“Hush!” interrupted the lady in a quick sharp whisper, raising her finger, and glancing towards the door of the apartment.  There was a noise as of stealthy footsteps in the corridor.  Strasolda sprang from the kneeing posture which she had maintained during her conversation with her mistress, and resumed her station in the recess of a window, while the counsellor’s lady snatched up a rich shawl from a damask covered ottoman, and threw it over the caskets spread out upon the table.  Scarcely were these arrangements completed, when the door was partially opened, and a wild sunburnt and bearded countenance showed itself at the aperture.

“Heaven and the saints be praised!” exclaimed the lady.  “They are come at last.  In with you, Jurissa Caiduch:  there is no one but Strasolda here.”

The person thus addressed, was a strongly built and active man, rather under the middle size, muffled in a coarse brown cloak, which was drawn over the lower part of his face, apparently with a view to concealment.  A broad-brimmed felt hat was slouched over his small black eyes, which glittered through its shadow like those of a snake, never fixing themselves on an object, but casting restless and suspicious glances, as though apprehensive of danger or treachery.  Gliding into the room, and closing the door noiselessly behind him, he approached the table, and placed upon it a tolerably large casket, which he produced from under his cloak; then retreating a step or two, he removed his hat, and stood in an attitude of silent respect, his eyes still gleaming, however, with their habitual expression of mistrust and cunning.

Without uttering a word, the lady seized the casket, and impatiently forced open its delicate silver lock.  A cry of joyful surprise burst from her lips on beholding the rich contents of the jewel-case.  Diamond chains, golden girdles and bracelets, combs and hair ornaments studded with orient pearls, passed in rapid succession through the white and eager fingers of the gratified dame, who seemed to lack words to express her pleasure and astonishment at the sight of such costly gems.  At last she turned to the bearer.

“Of a truth, Jurissa” cried she, “you are unusually liberal this time, and you must have great need of the good offices of myself and Father Cipriano, to be willing to purchase our influence with the archduke at so high a price.”

“Our last expedition was a successful one, noble lady,” replied the Uzcoque.  “The tender-hearted Strasolda,” added he with a spiteful glance at the maiden, who still kept her station by the window, “that guardian angel, who so often steps between us and our prey, was absent, and we had no need to stay our hands.”

As he spoke, the door was again hastily opened as softly as before, but somewhat wider, and the burly figure of a monk entered the room.  This was no other than the Father Cipriano Guido Lucchese, whom the lady had alluded to, and who, by his pleadings at the papal court, in favour of the Uzcoques, had earned himself the honourable cognomen of Ambassador de Ladri, or the Thieves’ Envoy.  He had expiated his discreditable intercession by a sojourn in the prisons of the Inquisition, which did not, however, present his being in high favour with the Archduke Ferdinand, at whose court he filled the triple office of theologian, confessor, and privy counsellor.