u shalt return thither, Fernand," exclaimed Nisida, raising her
countenance and gazing upon him, not with horror and amazement, but in
pride and triumph; "thou shalt return thither, Fernand, armed with a
power that may crush all thine enemies, and blast with destructive
lightning the wretches who would look slightingly on thee. Already thou
art dearer, far dearer to me than ever thou wast before; for I love the
marvelous--I glory in the supernatural--and thou art a being whom such
women as myself can worship and adore. And thou repinest at thy destiny?
thou shudderest at the idea of that monthly transformation which makes
thy fate so grand, because it is so terrible? Oh, thou art wrong, thou
art wrong, my Fernand. Consider all thou hast gained, how many, many
years of glorious youth and magnificent beauty await thee! Think of the
power with which thy boundless command of wealth may invest thee. Oh,
thou art happy, enviable, blest. But I--I," she added, the impassioned
excitement of her tone suddenly sinking into subdued plaintiveness as
her charming head once more fell upon his breast--"I am doomed to fade
and wither like the other human flowers of the earth. Oh, that thought
is now maddening. While thou remainest as thou art now, vested with that
fine, manly beauty which won my heart when first I saw thee, and before
I knew thee: I shall grow old, wrinkled, and thou wilt loathe me. I
shall be like a corpse by the side of one endowed with vigorous life.
Oh, Fernand; this may not be; and thou canst purchase the power to
bestow unperishing youth, unchanging beauty upon me; the power,
moreover, to transport us hence, and render us happy in inseparable
companionship for long, long years to come."

"Merciful heavens! Nisida," exclaimed Fernand, profoundly touched by the
urgent, earnest appeal of the lovely siren whose persuasive eloquence
besought him to seal his own eternal damnation--"would'st thou have me
yield up my soul to the enemy of mankind?"

"Do you hesitate? Can you even pause to reflect?" cried Nisida, with
whose tongue the demon himself was as it were speaking. "Oh, Fernand,
you love me not, you have never, never loved me." And she burst into a
flood of tears. Wagner was painfully moved by this spectacle, which
constituted so powerful an argument to support the persuasive eloquence
of her late appeal. His resolution gave way rapidly--the more agonizing
became her sobs the weaker grew his self-command; and his li