But scarcely had I measured twenty paces—
My body bending forward, yea, overbalanced
Almost beyond recoil, on the dim brink

Of a huge chasm I stept. The shadowy moonshine
Filling the Void, so counterfeited Substance,

That my foot hung aslant adown the edge.

Was it my own fear?

Fear too hath its instincts!

(And yet such dens as these are wildly told of, And yet are Beings that live, yet not for the eye) An arm of frost above and from behind me

Pluck'd up and snatch'd me backward.

Heaven!

Merciful

You smile! alas, even smiles look ghastly here!
My Lord, I pray you, go yourself and view it.
Ord. It must have shot some pleasant feelings
through you.

Isi. If every atom of a dead man's flesh

Should creep, each one with a particular life,
Yet all as cold as ever-'twas just so!
Or had it drizzled needle points of frost

Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald—
Ord. (interrupting him).

Why, Isidore,
I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled,
I grant you, even a brave man for a moment—
But such a panic-

Isi.

When a boy, my Lord!

I could have sate whole hours beside that chasm.

Push'd in huge stones, and heard them strike and

rattle

Against its horrid sides: then hung my head

Low down, and listen'd till the heavy fragments
Sank with faint crash in that still groaning well,
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never
A living thing came near-unless, perchance,

Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould

Close at its edge.

Ord.

Art thou more coward now? Isi. Call him, that fears his fellow-man, a coward! I fear not man-but this inhuman cavern, It were too bad a prison-house for goblins. Beside (you'll smile, my Lord), but true it is, My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted By what had passed between us in the morning. O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at By Forms so hideous that they mock remembranceNow seeing nothing and imagining nothing, But only being afraid-stifled with Fear! While every goodly or familiar form

Had a strange power of breathing terror round me!

I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;

And, I entreat your lordship to believe me,
In my last dream-

Ord.

Isi.

Well?

1 was in the act

Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra

Waked me: she heard my heart beat.

Strange enough!

Never, my Lord!

But mine eyes do not see it now more clearly,

Than in my dream I saw-that very chasm.

Ord. (stands lost in thought, then after a pause).

I know not why it should be! yet it is

Isi. What is, my Lord?

Ord.

To kill a man

Isi.

Abhorrent from our nature,

Except in self-defence.

Ord. Why, that's my case; and yet the soul recoils

from it

"I' is so with me at least. But you, perhaps,
Have sterner feelings!

Isi.
Something troubles you.
How shall I serve you? By the life you gave me,
By all that makes that life of value to me,

My wife, my babes, iny honour, I swear to you.
Name it, and I will toil to do the thing,
If it be innocent! But this, my Lord,
Is not a place where you could perpetrate,

No, nor propose, a wicked thing. The darkness,
When ten strides off, we know 'tis cheerful moon-

light,

Collects the guilt, and crowds it round the heart.
It must be innocent.

[Ordonio darkly, and in the feeling of self-justification, tells what he conceives of his own character and actions, speaking of himself in the third person.

Ord.

Thyself be judge.

One of our family knew this place well.

Isi. Who? when? my Lord?

Ord. What boots it, who or when?

Hang up thy torch-I'll tell his tale to thee.

[They hang up their torches on some ridge in the

cavern.

He was a man different from other men,

And he despised them, yet revered himself.

Isi. (aside). He? He despised? Thou 'rt speaking

of thyself!

I am on my guard, however: no surprise.

What! he was mad?

[Then to Ordonio.

All men seem'd mad to him!

Ord.
Nature had made him for some other planet,
Aud press'd his soul into a human shape

H

By accident or malice. In this world
He found no fit companion.-

Isi. Of himself he speaks.

Aside.

Alas! poor wretch !

Mad men are mostly proud.

He walk'd alone,

Ord.

And phantom thoughts unsought-for troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities; and with these shadows

His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happened,
A fancy cross'd him wilder than the rest :
To this in moody murmur and low voice
He yielded utterance, as some talk in sleep:
The man who heard him-

Why didst thou look round? Isi. I have a prattler three years old, my Lord!

In truth he is my darling. As I went

From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep—
But I am talking idly-pray proceed!

And what did this man?

Ord.

With his human hand

He gave a substance and reality

To that wild fancy of a possible thing—

Well it was done!

[Then very wildly.

Why babblest thou of guilt? The deed was done, and it pass'd fairly off.

And he whose tale I tell thee-dost thou listen?

Isi. I would, my Lord, you were by my fire-side,

I'd listen to you with an eager eye,

Though you began this cloudy tale at midnight;
But I do listen-pray proceed, my Lord.

Ord.

Where was I?.

Isi. He of whom you tell the tale—

Ord. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn, Tamed himself down to living purposes,

The occupations and the semblances
Of ordinary men-and such he seem'd!
But that same over-ready agent-he-
Isi. Ah! what of him, my Lord?

Ord. He proved a traitor, Betray'd the mystery to a brother-traitor, And they between them hatch'd a damned plot To hunt him down to infamy and death. What did the Valdez? I am proud of the name, Since he dared do it

[Ordonio grasps his sword, and turns off from Isidore; then after a pause returns.

Our links burn dimly.

Isi. A dark tale darkly finish'd! Nay, my lord! Tell what he did.

Ord. That which his wisdom prompted

He made that Traitor meet him in this cavern,
And here he kill'd the Traitor.

Isi.
No! the fool!
He had not wit enough to be a traitor.
Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen
That he who gull'd thee with a whimper'd lie
To murder his own brother, would not scruple
To murder thee, if e'er his guilt grew jealous,
And he could steal upon thee in the dark!

Ord. Thou wouldst not then have come, if-
Isi. O yes, my Lord!

I would have met him arm'd, and scared the coward. [Isidore throws off his robe; shows himself armed, and draws his sword.

Ord. Now this is excellent, and warms the blood! My heart was drawing back, drawing me back With weak and womanish scruples. Now my Ver

geance

Beckons me onwards with a warrior's mien,