_Isidore._ We met him in the very place you mentioned. Hard by a grove of firs-- _Ordonio._ Enough--enough-- 95 _Isidore._ He fought us valiantly, and wounded all; In fine, compelled a parley. _Ordonio._ Alvar! brother! _Isidore._ He offered me his purse-- _Ordonio._ Yes? _Isidore._ Yes--I spurned it.-- He promised us I know not what--in vain! Then with a look and voice that overawed me, 100 He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear: I have a brother and a promised wife, Who make life dear to me--and if I fall, That brother will roam earth and hell for vengeance. There was a likeness in his face to yours; 105 I asked his brother's name: he said--Ordonio, Son of Lord Valdez! I had well nigh fainted. At length I said (if that indeed I said it, And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ,) That woman is dishonoured by that brother, 110 And he the man who sent us to destroy you. He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him He wore her portrait round his neck. He look'd As he had been made of the rock that propt his back-- Aye, just as you look now--only less ghastly! 115 At length recovering from his trance, he threw His sword away, and bade us take his life, It was not worth his keeping. _Ordonio._ And you kill'd him? Oh blood hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you! He was his Maker's Image undefac'd! 120 It seizes me--by Hell I will go on! What--would'st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won't save thee! Oh cold--cold--cold! shot through with icy cold! _Isidore (aside)._ Were he alive he had returned ere now. The consequence the same--dead through his plotting! 125 _Ordonio._ O this unutterable dying away--here-- This sickness of the heart! What if I went And liv'd in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds? Aye! that's the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool! What have I done but that which nature destined, 130 Or the blind elements stirred up within me? If good were meant, why were we made these beings? And if not meant-- _Isidore._ You are disturbed, my lord! _Ordonio (starts)._ A gust of the soul! i'faith it overset me. O 'twas all folly--all! idle as laughter! 135 Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me. _Isidore (in a low voice)._ I'll perish first! _Ordonio._ What dost thou mutter of? _Isidore._ Some of your servants know me, I am certain. _Ordonio._ There's some sense in that scruple; but we'll mask you.