afford a more
complete contrast to the soft and glowing visage that a few moments
before he had beheld in the fane of Apollo. She was quite pale, almost
livid; her features, of exquisite shape, had become hard and even
distorted; all the bad passions of our nature seemed suddenly to have
concentred in that face which usually combined perfect beauty of form
with an expression the most gentle, and in truth most lovely.

'Yes, I can understand all this,' said Astarte, 'but I shall not
exercise any power which I may possess to assist you in violating the
laws of your country, and outraging the wishes of your sovereign.'

'Violating the laws of my country!' exclaimed Tancred, with a perplexed
look.

'Yes, I know all. Your schemes truly are very heroic and very flattering
to our self-love. We are to lend our lances to place on the throne of
Syria one who would not be permitted to reside in your own country, much
less to rule in it?'

'Of whom, of what, do you speak?'

'I speak of the Jewess whom you would marry,' said Astarte, in a hushed
yet distinct voice, and with a fell glance, 'against all laws, divine
and human.'

'Of your prisoner?'

'Well you may call her my prisoner; she is secure.'

'Is it possible you can believe that I even am a suitor of the daughter
of Besso?' said Tancred, earnestly. 'I wear the Cross, which is graven
on my heart, and have a heavenly mission to fulfil, from which no
earthly thought shall ever distract me. But even were I more than
sensible to her charms and virtues, she is affianced, or the same as
affianced; nor have I the least reason to suppose that he who will
possess her hand does not command her heart.'

'Affianced?'

'Not only affianced, but, until this sad adventure, on the very point of
being wedded. She was on her way from Damascus to Aleppo, to be united
to her cousin, when she was brought hither, where she will, I trust, not
long remain your prisoner.'

The countenance of Astarte changed; but, though it lost its painful and
vindictive expression, it did not assume one of less distress. After a
moment's pause, she murmured, 'Can this be true?'

'Who could have told you otherwise?'

'An enemy of hers, of her family,' continued Astarte, in a low voice,
and speaking as if absorbed in thought; 'one who admitted to me his
long-hoarded vengeance against her house.'

Then turning abruptly, she looked Tancred full in the face, with a
glance of almost fierce scrutiny. His