An hour thus passed away, and he attempted not to subdue his feelings: he rather encouraged their wild and wayward course by recalling to his imagination the charms of her whose beauty had thus strangely affected him,--the endearing words which she had uttered,--the thrilling effect of the delicious kisses he had received from her moist vermilion lips,--and the voluptuous contours of that snowy bosom which had been for a moment revealed to his eyes. An hour passed: he opened the door of his chamber and listened. A dead silence prevailed throughout the house. He stole softly along the passage and through the anteroom which led to the boudoir. When he reached the door of that chamber he paused for a moment. What was he about to do? He waited not to answer the question, nor to reason within himself: he only chose to remember that a thin partition was all that separated him from one of the most beauteous creatures upon whom the sun ever shone in this world. His fingers grasped the handle of the door: he turned it gently;--the door was not locked! He entered the boudoir as noiselessly as a spectre. The lamp was extinguished; but the fire still burnt in the grate; and its flickering light played tremulously on the various objects around, bathing in a rich red glare the downy bed whereon reposed the heroine of the villa. The atmosphere was warm and perfumed. The head of the sleeper was supported upon one naked arm, which was round, polished, and of exquisite whiteness. The other lay outside the clothes, upon the coverlid. Her long hair flowed in undulations upon the snowy pillows. The fire shone with Rembrandt effect upon her countenance, one side of which was completely irradiated, while the other caught not its mellow light. Thus the perfect regularity of the profile was fully revealed to him who now dared to intrude upon those sacred slumbers. "She shall be mine! she shall be mine!" murmured Montague; and he advanced toward the bed. At that moment--whether aroused by a dream, or startled by the almost noiseless tread of feet upon the carpet, we cannot say--the lady awoke. She opened her large hazel eyes; and they fell upon a figure to whom her imagination, thus suddenly surprised, and the flickering light of the fire, gave a giant stature. Her fears in one respect were, however, immediately relieved; for the voice of Montague fell upon her ears almost as soon as her eyes caught sight of him. "Pardon--pardon, dearest one!" he said in a harried and subdued tone. "Ah! is it so?" quickly ejaculated the lady, who in a moment comprehended how her privacy had been outraged; and passing her arm beneath the pillow, she drew forth a long, sharp, shining dagger. Montague started back in dismay. "Villain, that you are--approach this bed, and, without a moment's hesitation, I will plunge this dagger into your heart!"