Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. ” “Of how beautiful my children would be?” He finished her sentence. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. He returned the locket without comment. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. Instead, God had sent her Sebastianus, a man who had sold his soul to the Devil to gain eternal life, or perhaps he was even the Devil himself. Still—you must learn for yourself. ‘Ah, non,’ exclaimed the husband.
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