can be wrong.  At this thought her heart presently kindles, her eloquence springs to work, and its tones grow deeper, clearer, more penetrating, as point after point catches her mental eye.  Thenceforth it is a keen encounter of mind with mind; but on his side it is the conscious logic of an adroit and practised lawyer, who has full mastery of his case, and is prompt in all the turns of legal ingenuity; while on her side it is the logic of nature’s finest moral instincts spontaneously using the forces of a quick, powerful, and well-balanced intellect as their organ of expression.  She perceives at once how subtile and acute of apprehension he is; so, lest her speech should have too much edge, she veils the matter in figures of a somewhat enigmatical cast, because she knows that he will instantly take the sense.  Her instinctive knowledge of the human heart guides her directly to his secret springs of action.  With a tact that seems like inspiration, she feels out his assailable points, and still surprises and holds him with new and startling appeals to his innermost feelings.  At length, when, his wicked purpose being formed, he goes to talking to her in riddles, she quickly understands him, but thinks he is only testing her:  her replies leave him in doubt whether craft or innocence speaks in her:  so she draws him on to speaking plainer and plainer, till at last he makes a full and explicit avowal of his inhuman baseness.  He is especially caught, be it observed, “in the strong toil” of her moral grace; at least he is pleased to think so:  and as he has been wont to pride himself on being a saint, so he now takes refuge in the thought, “O cunning enemy, that to catch a saint, with saints dost bait thy hook!”

It is not to be denied, indeed, that Isabella’s chastity is rather too demonstrative and self-pronounced; but this is because of the unblushing and emphatic licentiousness of her social environment.  Goodness cannot remain undemonstrative amidst such a rank demonstrativeness of its opposite:  the necessity it is under of fighting against so much and such aggressive evil forces it into stress, and so into taking a full measure of itself.  Isabella, accordingly, is deeply conscious and mindful of her virtue, which somewhat mars the beauty of it, I admit; but in the circumstances it could not be otherwise:  with such a strong stew of corruption boiling and bubbling all about her, it was not possible that purity in her case should retain that bland, unconscious repose which is indeed its greatest charm.  From the prevailing rampancy of vice, a certain air of over-sternness and rigidity has wrought itself into her character, displacing somewhat of its proper sweetness and amiability:  but, in the right view of things, this loss is well made up in that she is the more an object of reverence; albeit I have to confess that she would touch me rather more potently, if she had a little more of loveliness and a little less of awfulness.  And it is remarkable that even Lucio, light-minded libertine as he is, whose familiar sin it is to jest with maids, “tongue far from heart,” cannot approach her, but that his levity is at once awed into soberness, and he regards her as one “to be talk’d with in sincerity, as with a saint.”