“Behold!” she said emphatically, as she pointed to the unhappy sufferer, who, though restored to life, was still utterly unconscious where she was or who surrounded her; her cheek and brow, white and damp; her large eye lustreless and wandering; her lip and eyelid quivering convulsively; her whole appearance proving too painfully that reason had indeed, for the time, fled.  The soul had been strong till the dread words were said; but the re-action had been too much for either frame or mind.  “Catherine! thou hast seen her in her beauty, the cherished, the beloved of all who knew her—­seen her when no loveliness could mate with hers.  Thou seest now the wreck that misery has made, though she has numbered but few more years than thou hast!  Detest, abhor, avoid her faith—­for that we command thee; but her sex, her sorrow, have a claim to sympathy and aid, which not even her race can remove.  Jewess though she be, if thou can look on her thus, and still speak of pollution and danger, thou art not what we deemed thee!”

Struck to the heart, alike by the marked display of a mistress she idolized and the sympathy her better nature really felt for Marie, Catherine sunk on her knees by the couch, and burst into tears.  Isabella watched her till her unusual indignation subsided, and then said more kindly, “It is enough; go, Catherine.  If we judge thee rightly thou wilt not easily forget this lesson!  Again I bid thee abhor her faith; but seek to win her to the right path, by gentleness and love, not prejudice and hate.”

“Oh! let me tarry here and tend her, my gracious Sovereign,” implored Catherine, again clasping Isabella’s robe and looking beseechingly in her face—­but from a very different feeling to the prompter of the same action a few minutes before—­“Oh, madam, do not send me from her!  I will be so gentle, so active—­watch, tend, serve; only say your Grace’s bidding, and I will do it, if I stood by her alone!”

“My bidding would be but the promptings of thine own heart, my girl,” replied the Queen, fondly, for she saw the desired impression had been made.  “If I need thee—­which I may do—­I will call upon thee; but now, thou canst do nothing, but think kindly, and judge mercifully—­important work indeed, if thou wouldst serve an erring and unhappy fellow-creature, with heart as well as hand.  But now go:  nay, not so sorrowfully; thy momentary fault is forgiven,” she added, kindly, as she extended her hand towards the evidently pained and penitent maiden, who raised it gratefully and reverentially to her lips, and thoughtfully withdrew.

It was not, however, with her attendants only, this generous and high-minded princess had to contend—­with them her example was enough; but the task was much more difficult, when the following day, as King Ferdinand had anticipated, brought the stern Sub-Prior of St. Francis to demand, in the church’s name, the immediate surrender of Marie.  But Isabella’s decision once formed never wavered.  Marie was