I loved to steep her amidst the dissipations and luxury of this abandoned city.

Mark me, Calenus! I desired to enervate her mind!--it has been too pure to receive yet the breath which I wish not to pass, but burningly to eat into, the mirror.

I wished her to be surrounded by lovers, hollow, vain, and frivolous (lovers that her nature must despise), in order to feel the want of love.

Then, in those soft intervals of lassitude that succeed to excitement--I can weave my spells--excite her interest--attract her passions--possess myself of her heart.

For it is not the young, nor the beautiful, nor the gay, that should fascinate Ione; her imagination must be won, and the life of Arbaces has been one scene of triumph over the imaginations of his kind.' 'And hast thou no fear, then, of thy rivals?
The gallants of Italy are skilled in the art to please.' 'None! Her Greek soul despises the barbarian Romans, and would scorn itself if it admitted a thought of love for one of that upstart race.' 'But thou art an Egyptian, not a Greek!' 'Egypt,' replied Arbaces, 'is the mother of Athens.