weak woman--from whose cheek a sound at the window, the screech of the
night-owl, the sight of a drop of blood on a man's sword, would start
the colour--could brave one glance of--Away! the very thought of such
sights for her makes even myself a coward!"

"When you told her you loved her,--when you clasped her to your breast,
you renounced all power to foresee her future lot, or protect her from
harm. Henceforth to her you are human, and human only. How know you,
then, to what you may be tempted; how know you what her curiosity may
learn and her courage brave? But enough of this,--you are bent on your
pursuit?"

"The fiat has gone forth."

"And to-morrow?"

"To-morrow, at this hour, our bark will be bounding over yonder ocean,
and the weight of ages will have fallen from my heart! I compassionate
thee, O foolish sage,--THOU hast given up THY youth!"



CHAPTER 3.XVII.

Alch: Thou always speakest riddles. Tell me if thou art that
fountain of which Bernard Lord Trevizan writ?

Merc: I am not that fountain, but I am the water. The fountain
compasseth me about.