!
Let me throw a deepening cloud over the brilliancy of his hopes, and
envenom all the springs of his affections and happiness! Let me make him
a thing to create abhorrence, and heap upon his head the shame and
degradation that weigh me down; and when he writhes in agony, let me
enjoy his misery and despair, and hear him cry for mercy, and deny it
him, as he denied it _her_! Oh! that I may watch his life as slowly it
ebbs away, and then in that last tumult of anguish,--in that violent
separation of the soul,--let me--let me pour into his afflicted ear my
exulting voice, shrieking aloud _Anselma_!"

Callous as was the nature of Caneri, he could not suppress an
involuntary shudder, when he beheld the horrid picture which the
renegade now exhibited. It was a fearful sight, for that gust of
frenzied passion gave to his whole person the look of a demon: his frame
shook violently, and as he grasped his weapon with nervous convulsion,
those iron features became fraught with indescribable hatred and
revenge. But the storm passed rapidly away, and after a short struggle,
the renegade again resumed his look of dark, imperturbable calmness, and
relapsing into his wonted mood of gloomy abstraction, he recovered the
cold fixed sneer which habit had rendered natural to his countenance.

At this time Malique claimed admittance, and advancing slowly towards
the pile of cushions on which the vain-glorious Caneri languidly
reclined, failed not to present all those marks of reverence which so
much delighted the chief, who conceived them indispensable to the
support of his dignity. Malique, therefore, crossed his arms with the
most abject air, inclined his head until it came nearly in contact with
his knees, and with all the outward signs of humility made three times
the Moorish obeisance. These tokens of submission Caneri received with
the haughtiness of manner peculiar to a despot, accustomed to command
respect and adoration from his herd of slavish dependants.

"Malique," he then cried, "what brings thee here? Why am I disturbed in
my moments of privacy? What can induce thee to commit so daring a
transgression?"

"Pardon me, most potent Caneri," humbly replied Malique. "Pardon the
good intentions of a faithful slave;--I am the bearer of pleasing
tidings, although in my zeal to serve my master, I may perhaps have been
guilty of indiscretion."

"Speak," said Caneri, assuming a look of important gravity. "Alagraf,
remain--I may need