‘Oh, Ione!’ said he, passionately gazing upon her, ’listen to one who has long struggled vainly with his love.  I adore thee!  The Fates do not lie—­thou art destined to be mine—­I have sought the world around, and found none like thee.  From my youth upward, I have sighed for such as thou art.  I have dreamed till I saw thee—­I wake, and I behold thee.  Turn not away from me, Ione; think not of me as thou hast thought; I am not that being—­cold, insensate, and morose, which I have seemed to thee.  Never woman had lover so devoted—­so passionate as I will be to Ione.  Do not struggle in my clasp:  see—­I release thy hand.  Take it from me if thou wilt—­well be it so!  But do not reject me, Ione—­do not rashly reject—­judge of thy power over him whom thou canst thus transform.  I, who never knelt to mortal being, kneel to thee.  I, who have commanded fate, receive from thee my own.  Ione, tremble not, thou art my queen—­my goddess—­be my bride!  All the wishes thou canst form shall be fulfilled.  The ends of the earth shall minister to thee—­pomp, power, luxury, shall be thy slaves.  Arbaces shall have no ambition, save the pride of obeying thee.  Ione, turn upon me those eyes—­shed upon me thy smile.  Dark is my soul when thy face is hid from it:  shine over me, my sun—­my heaven—­my daylight!—­Ione, Ione—­do not reject my love!’

Alone, and in the power of this singular and fearful man, Ione was not yet terrified; the respect of his language, the softness of his voice, reassured her; and, in her own purity, she felt protection.  But she was confused—­astonished:  it was some moments before she could recover the power of reply.

‘Rise, Arbaces!’ said she at length; and she resigned to him once more her hand, which she as quickly withdrew again, when she felt upon it the burning pressure of his lips.  ’Rise! and if thou art serious, if thy language be in earnest...’

‘If!’ said he tenderly.

’Well, then, listen to me:  you have been my guardian, my friend, my monitor; for this new character I was not prepared—­think not,’ she added quickly, as she saw his dark eyes glitter with the fierceness of his passion—­’think not that I scorn—­that I am untouched—­that I am not honored by this homage; but, say—­canst thou hear me calmly?’

‘Ay, though thy words were lightning, and could blast me!’

‘I love another!’ said Ione, blushingly, but in a firm voice.

‘By the gods—­by hell!’ shouted Arbaces, rising to his fullest height; ’dare not tell me that—­dare not mock me—­it is impossible!—­Whom hast thou seen—­whom known?  Oh, Ione, it is thy woman’s invention, thy woman’s art that speaks—­thou wouldst gain time; I have surprised—­I have terrified thee.  Do with me as thou wilt—­say that thou lovest not me; but say not that thou lovest another!’

‘Alas!’ began Ione; and then, appalled before his sudden and unlooked-for violence, she burst into tears.