here."

"My Lord," said Jerome eagerly.

"Peace! impostor!" said Manfred; "I will not have him prompted."

"My Lord," said Theodore, "I want no assistance; my story is very
brief. I was carried at five years of age to Algiers with my
mother, who had been taken by corsairs from the coast of Sicily.
She died of grief in less than a twelvemonth;" the tears gushed
from Jerome's eyes, on whose countenance a thousand anxious
passions stood expressed. "Before she died," continued Theodore,
"she bound a writing about my arm under my garments, which told me
I was the son of the Count Falconara."

"It is most true," said Jerome; "I am that wretched father."

"Again I enjoin thee silence," said Manfred: "proceed."

"I remained in slavery," said Theodore, "until within these two
years, when attending on my master in his cruises, I was delivered
by a Christian vessel, which overpowered the pirate; and
discovering myself to the captain, he generously put me on shore in
Sicily; but alas! instead of finding a father, I learned that his
estate, which was situated on the coast, had, during his absence,
been laid waste by the Rover who had carried my mother and me into
captivity: that his castle had been burnt to the ground, and that
my father on his return had sold what remained, and was retired
into religion in the kingdom of Naples, but where no man could
inform me. Destitute and friendless, hopeless almost of attaining