The door opened, and the Prince entered, in a dress that sparkled with jewels.
"Fair and cruel one," said he, advancing, with a half-sneer upon his lip, "thou wilt not too harshly blame the violence of love." He attempted to take her hand as he spoke.
"Nay," said he, as she recoiled, "reflect that thou art now in the power of one that never faltered in the pursuit of an object less dear to him than thou art.

Thy lover, presumptuous though he be, is not by to save thee.

Mine thou art; but instead of thy master, suffer me to be thy slave." "My lord," said Isabel, with a stern gravity which perhaps the Stage had conspired with Nature, to bestow upon her, "your boast is in vain.

Your power,--I am not in your power! Life and death are in my own hands.

I will not defy, but I do not fear you.