Valère. Learn to speak differently. It is not an imposture, and I advance nothing but what can be easily proved by me.

Anselme. What! you dare call yourself the son of Don Thomas d’Alburci?

Valère. Yes, I dare; and I am prepared to maintain this truth against any one.

Anselme. The audacity is marvellous! Learn to your confusion, that it is sixteen years at least since the man you speak of perished at sea with his wife and children, while endeavouring to save their lives from the cruel persecutions which accompanied the troubles at Naples, and which caused the exile of several noble families.

Valère. Yes; but learn, to your confusion, you, that his son, seven years of age, with a servant, was saved from the wreck by a Spanish vessel, and that this son, who was saved, is the person who speaks to you. Learn that the captain of that ship, pitying my misfortune, conceived a friendship for me; that he had me educated as his own son, and that I was trained to the profession of arms ever since I was old enough; that I have learned lately that my father is not dead, as I always believed; that passing through here to go in search of him, an accident, arranged by Heaven, brought me into contact with the charming Elise; that the sight of her made me a slave to her beauty, and that the violence of my passion and the harshness of her father made me resolve to introduce myself into his house, and to send some one else in quest of my parents.

Anselme. But what other proofs than your words can guarantee to us that this is not a fable based upon truth?

Valère. The Spanish captain; a ruby seal which belonged to my father; an agate bracelet which my mother had on her arm; old Pedro, the servant, who was saved with me from the wreck.

Mariane. Alas! to your words I can answer, I, that you are not imposing, and all that you say shows me clearly that you are my brother.

Valère. You, my sister!

Mariane. Yes. My heart was touched the moment you opened your lips; and our mother, who will be overjoyed at seeing you, has thousands of times related to me the misfortunes of our family. Heaven also permitted us not to perish in this dreadful shipwreck; but our lives were saved only at the cost of our liberty; and they were pirates that picked us up, my mother and me, on a plank of our vessel. After ten years of slavery, a happy accident regained for us our freedom; and we returned to Naples, where we found all our property sold, without being able to gather any news of our father. We then travelled to Genoa, whither my mother went to pick up some miserable remains of an inheritance of which she had been despoiled; and thence, flying from the barbarous injustice of her relatives, she came hither, where she has barely been able to drag on her life.

Anselme. O Heaven! how great is the evidence of thy power! and how well shewest thou that it belongs only to thee to perform miracles! Embrace me, my children, and share your joys with those of your father.

Valère. You are our father?

Mariane. It is you whom my mother has so much bewailed.

Anselme. Yes, my daughter, yes, my son; I am Don Thomas d’Alburci, whom Heaven saved from the waves, with all the money which he carried with him, and who, believing you all dead during more than sixteen years, prepared, after long journeying, to seek, in the union with a gentle and discreet girl, the consolation of a new family. The little safety which I found for my life in Naples, has made me for ever abandon the idea of returning; and having found means to sell all that I possessed there, I became used