satisfied that there was no enemy lurking near.

Meantime Isabelle, left quite alone, tried in vain to interest herself
in a book she had found lying upon one of the side-tables. She read
a few pages mechanically, and then, finding it impossible to fix her
attention upon it, threw the volume from her and sat idly in front of
the fire, which was blazing cheerily, thinking of her own true lover,
and praying that he might be preserved from injury in the impending
struggle. Evening came at last--a servant brought in lights, and soon
after the major-domo announced a visit from the Duke of Vallombreuse.
He entered at once, and greeted his fair captive with the most finished
courtesy. He looked very handsome, in a superb suit of pearl gray satin,
richly trimmed with crimson velvet, and Isabelle could not but admire
his personal appearance, much as she detested his character.

"I have come to see, my adorable Isabelle, whether I shall be more
kindly received than my flowers," said he, drawing up a chair beside
hers. "I have not the vanity to think so, but I want you to become
accustomed to my presence. To-morrow another bouquet, and another
visit."

"Both will be useless, my lord," she replied, "though I am sorry to have
to be so rude as to say so--but I had much better be perfectly frank
with you."

"Ah, well!" rejoined the duke, with a malicious smile, "I will dispense
with hope, and content myself with reality. You do not know, my poor
child, what a Vallombreuse can do--you, who vainly try to resist him.
He has never yet known what it was to have an unsatisfied desire--he
invariably gains his ends, in spite of all opposition--nothing can stop
him. Tears, supplication, laments, threats, even dead bodies and smoking
ruins would not daunt him. Do not tempt him too powerfully, by throwing
new obstacles in his way, you imprudent child!"

Isabelle, frightened by the expression of his countenance as he spoke
thus, instinctively pushed her chair farther away from his, and felt for
Chiquita's knife. But the wily duke, seeing that he had made a mistake,
instantly changed his tone, and begging her pardon most humbly for his
vehemence, endeavoured to persuade her, by many specious arguments, that
she was wrong in persistently turning a deaf ear to his suit--setting
forth at length, and in glowing words, all the advantages that would
accrue to her if she would but yield to his wishes, and describing the
happiness in store for her. W