With a deep and burning sigh he murmured, "Isabel, I love thee!" That beautiful face, bathed in blushes, drooped upon his bosom; and as he bent down, his lips sought the rosy mouth,--a long and burning kiss.

Danger, life, the world were forgotten! Suddenly Zicci tore himself from her.
"Oh! what have I said?
It is gone,--my power to preserve thee, to guard thee, to foresee the storm in thy skies, is gone forever.

No matter! Haste, haste; and may love supply the loss of prophecy and power!" Isabel hesitated no more.

She threw her mantle over her shoulders and gathered up her dishevelled hair; a moment, and she was prepared,--when a sudden crash was heard in the inner room.
"Too late!--fool that I was--too late!" cried Zicci, in a sharp tone of agony as he hurried to the outer door.

He opened it, only to be borne back by the press of armed men.
Behind, before, escape was cut off.