ds! you are unhappy. Your great soul
must feel the pressure of the chains which bind you forever to a lowly
bride. Daura suffices not for a man of noble ambition, and fate has
destined you for greater things. Three crowns are waiting to grace your
brow, when you shall have rendered yourself worthy of them.'

'Messenger of Heaven!' cried Idallan in ecstasies.

'You must know,' continued the spectre, 'that since the day when you
and Ryno attacked me with such inconsiderate zeal, I have been
condemned through Hiorba's cruelty, to wander about among the
subterranean caves of this mountain, until some firm and courageous
adventurer deliver me from the power of that ugly witch. The brave man
who shall accomplish this, I will raise to the first throne in the
world, give him the daughter of the most powerful ruler for a wife, and
lay my inexhaustible treasures open to him.'

'O that it may be my destiny to end your sorrows, wise magician!' said
Idallan, sighing.

'You alone can do it, brave and noble knight,' answered Rasalkol. 'You
alone have the means in your hands, to destroy Hiorba, deliver me, and
procure unspeakable happiness for yourself; but he who would serve
Rasalkol must not fear to shed blood!'

'Give me but wealth and power, and I will slay millions for you.'

'Take this withered twig,' said the phantom, handing him a wand. 'Bear
it to the chamber where Daura sleeps, strike your dagger to her heart
in such a manner that the warm blood shall sprinkle the wand. The twig
will acquire new life; leaves, buds and flowers will instantly put
forth, it will take root in the earth and bear a magnificent fruit,
containing within itself the seeds of death. Divide the fruit and send
it in the name of Daura to Ryno and Aliande. As soon as you hear that
they are dead, bring their bodies here and lay them by the corpse of
your wife. Then tear out their hearts and burn them with the wood of
the tree. When the fire shall have destroyed the last fibre, Hiorba
will expire with dreadful torments. I shall then be free and eternally
grateful.'

'I am yours!' cried Idallan, cautiously proceeding to the sleeping
chamber of the unhappy Daura, with the magic wand in one hand and his
dagger in the other. A mysterious light preceded the monster's steps.
Softly opening the door, the angelic form lay before him, wrapped in
peaceful slumber. The sweet smile of innocence played upon her pale
lips. In a tone of melancholy tenderness which w