Then was the moment for a painter to have seized on the face and form of Isabella! Her eye flashed till its very color was undistinguishable, her lip curled, every feature--usually so mild and feminine--was so transformed by indignation into majesty and unutterable scorn as scarcely to have been recognized.

Her slight and graceful form dilated till the very boldest cowered before her, even before she spoke; for never had they so encountered her reproof:-- "Are ye women ?" she said at length, in the quiet, concentrated tone of strong emotion; "or are we deceived as to the meaning of your words?
Pollution! Are we to see a young, unhappy being perish for want of sympathy and succor, because--forsooth--she is a Jewess?
Danger to our soul! We should indeed fear it; did we leave her to die, without one effort to restore health to the frame, and the peace of Christ to the mind! Has every spark of woman's nature faded from your hearts, that ye can speak thus?
If for yourselves you fear, tend her not, approach her not--we will ourselves give her the aid she needs.

And as for thee," she continued severely, as she forced the now trembling Catherine to stand upright before her, "whose energy to serve Marie we loved and applauded; child as thou art, must thou too speak of pollution?
but example may have done this.

Follow me, minion; and then talk of pollution if thou canst!" And with a swift step Isabella led the way to the chamber of Marie.
"Behold!" she said emphatically, as she pointed to the unhappy sufferer, who, though restored to life, was still utterly unconscious where she was or who surrounded her; her cheek and brow, white and damp; her large eye lustreless and wandering; her lip and eyelid quivering convulsively; her whole appearance proving too painfully that reason had indeed, for the time, fled.

The soul had been strong till the dread words were said; but the re-action had been too much for either frame or mind.