What became of the poor creature I cannot say.  Reports are various.  Some tell us that he was found on the rocks, dashed all to pieces, so that you could not distinguish foot from head; others, that he fell into the sea at the distance of three miles, and perished in consequence of not knowing how to swim, in spite of the prayers and tears that he addressed to Heaven; others again affirm, that a saint came and assisted him, and drew him to shore before people’s eyes.  I must leave the reader to adopt which of these accounts he looks upon as the most probable.

The Pagan, as soon as he had thus disposed of the garrulous hermit, turned towards Isabella (for that was the lady’s name), and with a face some what less disturbed, began to talk to her in the common language of gallantry, protesting that she was his life and soul, and that he should not know what to do without her; for the sweetness of her appearance mollified even him; and indeed, with all his violence, he would rather have possessed her by fair means than by foul.  He therefore flattered himself that, by a little hypocritical attention, he should dispose her to return his inclinations.

On the other hand, the poor disconsolate creature, who, in a country unknown to her, and a place so remote from help, felt like a mouse in the cat’s claws, began casting in her mind by what possible contrivance she could escape from such a wretch with honour.  She had made up her mind to perish by her own hand, rather than be faithless, however unwillingly, to the dear husband that had died in her arms:  but the question was, how she could protect herself from the pagan’s violence, before she had secured the means of so doing; for his manner was becoming very impatient, and his speeches every moment less and less civil.

At length an expedient occurred to her.  She told him, that if he would promise to respect her virtue, she would put him in possession of a secret that would redound far more to his honour and glory, than any wrong which he could inflict on the innocent.  She conjured him not to throw away the satisfaction he would experience all the rest of his life from the consciousness of having done right, for the sake of injuring one unhappy creature.  “There were thousands of her sex,” she observed, “with cheerful as well as beautiful faces, who might rejoice in his affection; whereas the secret she spoke of was known to scarcely a soul on earth but herself.”

She then told him the secret; which consisted in the preparation of a certain herb boiled with ivy and rue over a fire of cypress-wood, and squeezed into a cup by hands that had never done harm.  The juice thus obtained, if applied fresh every month, had the virtue of rendering bodies invulnerable.  Isabella said she had seen the herb in the neighbourhood, as she came along, and that she would not only make the preparation forth-with, but let its effects be proved on her own person.  She only stipulated, that the receiver of the gift should swear not to offend her purity in deed or word.