“Who is Nicholas dancing with?” asked Mistress Nutter suddenly.

“Is he dancing with any one?” rejoined Richard, looking amidst the crowd.

“Do you not see her?” said Mistress Nutter; “a very beautiful woman with flashing eyes:  they move so quickly, that I can scarce discern her features; but she is habited like a nun.”

“Like a nun!” cried Richard, his blood growing chill in his veins. “’Tis she indeed, then!  Where is he?”

“Yonder, yonder, whirling madly round,” replied Mistress Nutter.

“I see him now,” said Richard, “but he is alone.  He has lost his wits to dance in that strange manner by himself.  How wild, too, is his gaze!”

“I tell you he is dancing with a very beautiful woman in the habit of a nun,” said Mistress Nutter.  “Strange I should never have remarked her before.  No one in the room is to be compared with her in loveliness—­not even Alizon.  Her eyes seem to flash fire, and she bounds like the wild roe.”

“Does she resemble the portrait of Isole de Heton?” asked Richard, shuddering.

“She does—­she does,” replied Mistress Nutter.  “See! she whirls past us now.”

“I can see no one but Nicholas,” cried Richard.

“Nor I,” added Alizon, who shared in the young man’s alarm.

“Are you sure you behold that figure?” said Richard, drawing Mistress Nutter aside, and breathing the words in her ear.  “If so, it is a phantom—­or he is in the power of the fiend.  He was rash enough to invite that wicked votaress, Isole de Heton, condemned, it is said, to penal fires for her earthly enormities, to dance with him, and she has come.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Mistress Nutter.

“She will whirl him round till he expires,” cried Richard; “I must free him at all hazards.”

“Stay,” said Mistress Nutter; “it is I who have been deceived.  Now I look again, I see that Nicholas is alone.”

“But the nun’s dress—­the wondrous beauty—­the flashing eyes!” cried Richard.  “You described Isole exactly.”

“It was mere fancy,” said Mistress Nutter.  “I had just been looking at her portrait, and it dwelt on my mind, and created the image.”

“The portrait is gone,” cried Richard, pointing to the empty wall.

Mistress Nutter looked confounded.

And without a word more, she took Alizon, who was full of alarm and astonishment, by the arm, and hurried her out of the hall.

As they disappeared, the young man flew towards Nicholas, whose extraordinary proceedings had excited general amazement.  The other dancers had moved out of the way, so that free space was left for his mad gyrations.  Greatly scandalised by the exhibition, which he looked upon as the effect of intoxication, Sir Ralph called loudly to him to stop, but he paid no attention to the summons, but whirled on with momently-increasing velocity, oversetting old Adam Whitworth, Gregory, and Dickon, who severally ventured to place themselves in his path, to enforce their master’s injunctions, until at last, just as Richard reached him, he uttered a loud cry, and fell to the ground insensible.  By Sir Ralph’s command he was instantly lifted up and transported to his own chamber.