“I am vowed to Heaven, as you see,” she rejoined. “I have entered a convent in Rome, and hoped to pass the rest of my days in peace. But I have been sorely troubled since I learnt that your highness was marching to lay waste the city, and determined, at whatever risk, to make an effort to save it. With that view I came forth to-night. I ventured to approach the sentinels, and I desired to be brought before your highness. The men refused, but while they were talking with me the Seigneur Pomperant came up, and at once consented to bring me before you.” “If I have done wrong, I trust your highness will forgive me,” said Pomperant, “but I could not refuse the request.” “Nay, there is no harm done,” said Bourbon. “But how comes it that you have abandoned the world?” he added to Marcelline. “I thought you had given your heart to Pomperant. Why have you placed this insurmountable bar between yourself and him?” “Ah! why, indeed?” cried Pomperant, reproachfully. “I could not do otherwise,” she rejoined. “But I have not come hither to tell my own sad story. I have come to entreat your highness, even at the eleventh hour, to abandon your impious purpose. Oh! prince, listen to me, I implore you. Treason and rebellion are great crimes, but they are as naught compared with the act you are about to commit. If you deliver over Rome to pillage and slaughter, your name will be for ever execrated. Turn back, I implore of you!” “I cannot turn back. Be that my answer,” said Bourbon, impatiently. “But it is in your power to save the city!” cried Marcelline. “You can come to terms with his Holiness, who will enable you to satisfy your men.” “Bah!” exclaimed Bourbon. “Nothing will satisfy them but the plunder of the city.” “Will no consideration move you?” she cried. “Have you no pity for the innocent and the aged? Will you allow the temples of your religion to be destroyed and polluted?” “My heart is steeled to pity,” rejoined Bourbon, sternly. “All your solicitations are in vain.” “Then since you are deaf to all entreaties, tremble!” she cried. “Tremble! for Heaven's vengeance will alight upon you. Grace has been offered you, but you have cast it aside. But you will not enjoy your triumph. You will not enter the city.” “Who shall prevent me?” demanded Bourbon. “Heaven,” she rejoined. “Heaven will prevent you.” “Were you a messenger from Heaven itself, you should not prevent me from being first to scale the walls,” said Bourbon. “This interview can lead to nothing, and must not be prolonged,” he added to Pomperant, “Conduct the Sister Marcelline through the camp, and place her where she may safely enter the city.” “It shall be dene,” replied Pomperant, He then withdrew with Marcelline. On reaching the outskirts of the camp, she said to him, “Are you determined to follow Bourbon?” “To the last,” he rejoined. “If he is shot down, I will take his place.” Marcelline made no reply, but darted from him, and ran towards the Aurelian Wall.