re he my kinsman, my
brother, or my son, it should be thus with him. He must die to-morrow.'
'To-morrow?' said Isabel; 'Oh, that is sudden: spare him, spare him; he
is not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens we kill the fowl in
season; shall we serve Heaven with less respect than we minister to our
gross selves? Good, good, my lord, bethink you, none have died for my
brother's offence, though many have committed it. So you would be the
first that gives this sentence, and he the first that suffers it. Go to
your own bosom, my lord; knock there, and ask your heart what it does
know that is like my brother's fault; if it confess a natural
guiltiness such as his is, let it not sound a thought against my
brother's life!' Her last words more moved Angelo than all she had
before said, for the beauty of Isabel had raised a guilty passion in
his heart, and he began to form thoughts of dishonourable love, such as
Claudio's crime had been; and the conflict in his mind made him to turn
away from Isabel; but she called him back, saying: 'Gentle my lord,
turn back; hark, how I will bribe you. Good my lord, turn back!' 'How,
bribe me!' said Angelo, astonished that she should think of offering
him a bribe. 'Ay,' said Isabel, 'with such gifts that Heaven itself
shall share with you; not with golden treasures, or those glittering
stones, whose price is either rich or poor as fancy values them, but
with true prayers that shall be up to Heaven before sunrise,--prayers
from preserved souls, from fasting maids whose minds are dedicated to
nothing temporal.' 'Well, come to me to-morrow,' said Angelo. And for
this short respite of her brother's life, and for this permission that
she might be heard again, she left him with the joyful hope that she
should at last prevail over his stern nature: and as she went away she
said: 'Heaven keep your honour safe! Heaven save your honour!' Which
when Angelo heard, he said within his heart: 'Amen, I would be saved
from thee and from thy virtues': and then, affrighted at his own evil
thoughts, he said: 'What is this? What is this? Do I love her, that I
desire to hear her speak again, and feast upon her eyes? What is it I
dream on? The cunning enemy of mankind, to catch a saint, with saints
does bait the hook. Never could an immodest woman once stir my temper,
but this virtuous woman subdues me quite. Even till now, when men were
fond, I smiled and wondered at them.'

In the guilty conflict in his mind