whose court he filled the triple office of theologian, confessor, and
privy counsellor.

The sleek and unctuous physiognomy of the monk wore an expression of
unusual care and anxiety. Without bestowing a salutation or a look upon
the lady whose apartment he thus unceremoniously entered, he addressed
himself at once to the Uzcoque Jurissa.

"Away with you!" cried he. "Out of the palace; and quietly, too, as your
own shadow. Thumbscrews are waiting for you if you linger."

Strasolda gazed in alarm at Father Cipriano. Jurissa thrust his right hand
under his cloak, and seemed to clutch some weapon. Even the counsellor's
dame for a moment turned her eyes from the jewels she was admiring to the
anxious countenance of the padre.

"Your last exploit will bring you into trouble," continued the latter to
Jurissa. "You have gone beyond all bounds; and a special ambassador has
arrived here from Venice."

"Well!" replied the Uzcoque surlily, "was not the sack of doubloons
sufficient fee to keep you at your post?"

"I have but just left it," answered the monk, "and you may thank me if the
storm is averted for the moment, although it must burst erelong. Before
the ambassador could obtain his audience, I hurried to the archduke, and
chanted the old ditty; told him you were the Maccabees of the century--the
bulwarks of Christendom: that without you the Turks would long since have
been in Gradiska--that the Venetians, through fear and lust of gain, were
hand and glove with the followers of Mahomet--and that it was their own