"He must be dull,--not worth thy thoughts." The actress drew Gionetta nearer to the stage, and pointed out to her a man in one of the nearer boxes, conspicuous amongst all else by the simplicity of his dress and the extraordinary beauty of his features.
"Not worth a thought, Gionetta," repeated Isabel,--"not worth a thought! Saw you ever one so noble, so godlike ?" "By the Holy Mother!" answered Gionetta, "he is a proper man, and has the air of a prince." The prompter summoned the Signora Pisani.

"Find out his name, Gionetta," said she, sweeping on to the stage, and passing by Glyndon, who gazed at her with a look of sorrowful reproach.
The scene on which the actress now entered was that of the final catastrophe, wherein all her remarkable powers of voice and art were pre-eminently called forth.

The house hung on every word with breathless worship, but the eyes of Isabel sought only those of one calm and unmoved spectator; she exerted herself as if inspired.

The stranger listened, and observed her with an attentive gaze, but no approval escaped his lips, no emotion changed the expression of his cold and half-disdainful aspect.

Isabel, who was in the character of a jealous and abandoned mistress, never felt so acutely the part she played.
Her tears were truthful; her passion that of nature: it was almost too terrible to behold.