e
are no common times, and you are no common person. You forget that there
is one that has greater claims upon you even than a forlorn maiden, your
country. And whether Iskander be at Croia or not, Greece requires the
presence and exertions of the Prince of Athens."

"I have no country," replied Nicaeus, mournfully, "and no object for
which to exert myself."

"Nicaeus! Is this the poetic patriot who was yesterday envying
Themistocles?"

"Alas! Iduna, yesterday you were my muse. I do not wonder you are
wearied of this castle!" continued the prince in a melancholy tone.
"This spot contains nothing to interest you; but for me, it holds all
that is dear, and, O! gentle maiden, one smile from you, one smile of
inspiration, and I would not envy Themistocles, and might perhaps rival
him."

They were walking together in the hall of the castle; Iduna stepped
aside and affected to examine a curious buckler, Nicaeus followed her,
and placing his arm gently in hers, led her away.

"Dearest Iduna," he said, "pardon me, but men struggle for their fate.
Mine is in your power. It is a contest between misery and happiness,
glory and perhaps infamy. Do not then wonder that I will not yield my
chance of the brighter fortune without an effort. Once more I appeal to
your pity, if not to your love. Were Iduna mine, were she to hold out
but the possibility of her being mine, there is no career, solemnly I
avow what solemnly I feel, there is no career of which I could not be
capable, and no condition to which I would not willingly subscribe. But
this certainty, or this contingency, I must have: I cannot exist without
the alternative. And now upon my knees, I implore her to grant it to
me!"

"Nicaeus," said Iduna, "this continued recurrence to a forbidden subject
is most ungenerous."

"Alas! Iduna, my life depends upon a word, which you will not speak, and
you talk of generosity. No! Iduna, it is not I that I am ungenerous."

"Let me say then unreasonable, Prince Nicaeus."

"Say what you like, Iduna, provided you say that you are mine."

"Pardon me, sir, I am free."

"Free! You have ever underrated me, Iduna. To whom do you owe this
boasted freedom?"

"This is not the first time," remarked Iduna, "that you have reminded
me of an obligation, the memory of which is indelibly impressed upon my
heart, and for which even the present conversation cannot make me
feel less grateful. I can never forget that I owe all that is dear to
you