ietly remained among the ranks
of your passionate adorers; striving, by dint of delicate attentions,
chivalrous devotion, magnificent offerings, and respectful yet ardent
solicitations, to soften that hard heart of yours. If I could not
have succeeded in inspiring it with love for me, I might at least have
awakened in it that tender pity which is akin to love, and which is so
often only its forerunner. In the end, perhaps, you would have repented
of your cruel severity, and acknowledged that you had been unjust
towards me. Believe me, my charming Isabelle, I should have neglected
nothing to bring it about."

"If you had employed only honest and honourable means in your suit,"
Isabelle rejoined, "I should have felt very sorry that I had been so
unfortunate as to inspire an attachment I could not reciprocate, and
would have given you my warm sympathy, and friendly regard, instead of
being reluctantly compelled, by repeated outrages, to hate you instead.

"You do hate me then?--you acknowledge it?" the duke cried, his voice
trembling with rage; but he controlled himself, and after a short pause
continued, in a gentler tone, "Yet I do not deserve it. My only wrongs
towards you, if any there be, have come from the excess and ardour of
my love; and what woman, however chaste and virtuous, can be seriously
angry with a gallant gentleman because he has been conquered by the
power of her adorable charms? whether she so desired or not."

"Certainly, that is not a reason for dislike or anger, my lord, if the
suitor does not overstep the limits of respect, as all women will agree.
But when his insolent impatience leads him to commit excesses, and he
resorts to fraud, abduction, and imprisonment, as you have not hesitated
to do, there is no other result possible than an unconquerable aversion.
Coercion is always and inevitably revolting to a nature that has any
proper pride or delicacy. Love, true love, is divine, and cannot be
furnished to order, or extorted by violence. It is spontaneous, and
freely given--not to be bought, nor yet won by importunity."

"Is an unconquerable aversion then all that I am to expect from you?"
said Vallombreuse, who had become pale to ghastliness, and been fiercely
gnawing his under lip, while Isabelle was speaking, in her sweet, clear
tones, which fell on his ear like the soft chiming of silver bells, and
only served to enhance his devouring passion.

"There is yet one means of winning my friendsh