face, bathed in blushes, drooped upon his bosom; and. as he bent down,
his lips sought the rosy mouth,--a long and burning kiss. Danger, life,
the world were forgotten! Suddenly Zicci tore himself from her.

"Oh! what have I said? It is gone,--my power to preserve thee, to guard
thee, to foresee the storm in thy skies, is gone forever. No matter!
Haste, haste; and may love supply the loss of prophecy and power!"

Isabel hesitated no more. She threw her mantle over her shoulders and
gathered up her dishevelled hair; a moment, and she was prepared,--when
a sudden crash was heard in the inner room.

"Too late!--fool that I was--too late!" cried Zicci, in a sharp tone of
agony as he hurried to the outer door. He opened it, only to be borne
back by the press of armed men.

Behind, before, escape was cut off. The room literally swarmed with the
followers of the ravisher, masked, mailed, armed to the teeth.

Isabel was already in the grasp of two of the myrmidons; her shriek
smote the ear of Zicci. He sprang forward, and Isabel heard his wild
cry in a foreign tongue,--the gleam, the clash of swords. She lost her
senses; and when she recovered, she found herself gagged, and in a
carriage that was driven rapidly, by the side of a masked and motionless
figure. The carriage stopped at the portals of a gloomy mansion. The
gates opened noiselessly, a broad flight of steps, brilliantly
illumined, was before her,--she was in the palace of the Prince di --.