captive would be too illustrious for my chains," said Isabelle,
firmly, "and as I could never consent to accept so much honour at your
hands, my lord, I pray you to desist, and relieve me of your presence."

Hitherto the Duke of Vallombreuse had managed to keep his temper under
control; he had artfully concealed his naturally violent and domineering
spirit under a feigned mildness and humility, but, at Isabelle's
determined and continued--though modest and respectful--resistance to
his pleading, his anger was rapidly rising to boiling point. He felt
that there was love--devoted love--for another behind her persistent
rejection of his suit, and his wrath and jealousy augmented each
other. Throwing aside all restraint, he advanced towards her
impetuously--whereat she made another desperate effort to tear open the
casement. A fierce frown contracted his brow, he gnawed his under lip
savagely, and his whole face was transformed--if it had been beautiful
enough for an angel's before, it was like a demon's now.

"Why don't you tell the truth," he cried, in a loud, angry voice, "and
say that you are madly in love with that precious rascal, de Sigognac?
THAT is the real reason for all this pretended virtue that you
shamelessly flaunt in men's faces. What is there about that cursed
scoundrel, I should like to know, that charms you so? Am I not
handsomer, of higher rank, younger, richer, as clever, and as much in
love with you as he can possibly be? aye, and more--ten thousand times
more."

"He has at least one quality that you are lacking in, my lord," said
Isabelle, with dignity; "he knows how to respect the woman he loves."

"That's only because he cares so little about you, my charmer!" cried
Vallombreuse, suddenly seizing Isabelle, who vainly strove to
escape from him, in his arms, and straining her violently to his
breast--despite her frantic struggles, and agonized cry for help. As if
in response to it, the door was suddenly opened, and the tyrant, making
the most deprecating gestures and profound bows, entered the room and
advanced towards Isabelle, who was at once released by Vallombreuse,
with muttered curses at this most inopportune intrusion.

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," said Herode, with a furtive glance
at the duke, "for interrupting you. I did not know that you were in such
good company; but the hour for rehearsal has struck, and we are only
waiting for you to begin."

He had left the door ajar, and a