“It is the lot of the wild tribes of nature,” said Isabella, “but chiefly of those who are destined to support themselves by rapine, which brooks no partner; but it is not the law of nature in general; even the lower orders have confederacies for mutual defence.  But mankind—­the race would perish did they cease to aid each other.—­From the time that the mother binds the child’s head, till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the death-damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without mutual help.  All, therefore, that need aid, have right to ask it of their fellow-mortals; no one who has the power of granting can refuse it without guilt.”

“And in this simple hope, poor maiden,” said the Solitary, “thou hast come into the desert, to seek one whose wish it were that the league thou hast spoken of were broken for ever, and that, in very truth, the whole race should perish?  Wert thou not frightened?”

“Misery,” said Isabella, firmly, “is superior to fear.”

“Hast thou not heard it said in thy mortal world, that I have leagued myself with other powers, deformed to the eye and malevolent to the human race as myself?  Hast thou not heard this—­And dost thou seek my cell at midnight?”

“The Being I worship supports me against such idle fears,” said Isabella; but the increasing agitation of her bosom belied the affected courage which her words expressed.

“Ho! ho!” said the Dwarf, “thou vauntest thyself a philosopher?  Yet, shouldst thou not have thought of the danger of intrusting thyself, young and beautiful, in the power of one so spited against humanity, as to place his chief pleasure in defacing, destroying, and degrading her fairest works?”

Isabella, much alarmed, continued to answer with firmness, “Whatever injuries you may have sustained in the world, you are incapable of revenging them on one who never wronged you, nor, wilfully, any other.”

“Ay, but, maiden,” he continued, his dark eyes flashing with an expression of malignity which communicated itself to his wild and distorted features, “revenge is the hungry wolf, which asks only to tear flesh and lap blood.  Think you the lamb’s plea of innocence would be listened to by him?”

“Man!” said Isabella, rising, and expressing herself with much dignity, “I fear not the horrible ideas with which you would impress me.  I cast them from me with disdain.  Be you mortal or fiend, you would not offer injury to one who sought you as a suppliant in her utmost need.  You would not—­you durst not.”

“Thou say’st truly, maiden,” rejoined the Solitary; “I dare not—­I would not.  Begone to thy dwelling.  Fear nothing with which they threaten thee.  Thou hast asked my protection—­thou shalt find it effectual.”

“But, father, this very night I have consented to wed the man that I abhor, or I must put the seal to my father’s ruin.”

“This night?—­at what hour?”

“Ere midnight.”