; yonder man no longer resembled the
Ulrich, to whom, in the happiest hour of her life, she had so willingly,
almost too willingly, offered her pure lips.

Isabella's young heart contracted with a chill, yet she saw that he
longed for her; she knew, could not deny, that she had bound herself to
him body and soul, and yet--yet, she would so gladly have loved him.

She strove to speak, but could find no words, save "Ulrich, Ulrich," and
these did not sound gay and joyous, but confused and questioning.

Coello felt her fingers press his shoulder closer and closer. She was
surely seeking protection and aid from him, to keep her promise and
resist her lover's passionate appeal.

Now his darling's eyes filled with tears, and he felt the tremor of her
limbs.

Softened by affectionate weakness and no longer able to resist the
impulse to see his little Belita happy, he whispered:

"Poor thing, poor young lovers! Do as you choose, I won't look."

But Isabella did not leave him; she only drew herself up higher, summoned
all her courage and looking the returned traveller more steadily in the
face, said:

"You are so changed, so entirely changed, Ulrich I cannot tell what has
come over me. I have anticipated this hour day and night, and now it is
here;--what is this? What has placed itself between us?"

"What, indeed!" he indignantly exclaimed, advancing towards her with a
threatening air. "What? Surely you must know! Your mother has destroyed
your regard for the poor bungler. Here I stand! Have I kept my promise,
yes or no? Have I become a monster, a venomous serpent? Do not look at me
so again, do not! It will do no good; to you or me. I will not allow
myself to be trifled with!"

Ulrich had shouted these words, as if some great injustice had been done
him, and he believed himself in the right.

Coello tried to release himself from his daughter, to confront the
passionately excited man, but she held him back, and with a pale face and
trembling voice, but proud and resolute manner, answered:

"No one has trifled with you, I least of all; my love has been earnest,
sacred earnest."

"Earnest!" interrupted Ulrich, with cutting irony.

"Yes, yes, sacred earnest;--and when my mother told me you had killed a
man and left Venice for a worthless woman's sake, when it was rumored,
that in Ferrara you had become a gambler, I thought: 'I know him better,
they are slandering him to destroy the love you bear in your heart.' I
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