Cavigni essayed, by every art, to gain her over to his desires; but Megalena, regarding him with aversion, answered with an haughtiness which she was unable to conceal, and which his proud spirit might ill brook. Cavigni could not disguise the vexation which he felt, when, increased by resistance, Megalena’s dislike towards him remained no longer a secret: “Megalena,” said he, at last, “fair girl, thou shalt be mine--we will be wedded to-morrow, if you think the bands of love not sufficiently forcible to unite us.” “No bands shall ever unite me to you!” exclaimed Megalena. “Even though the grave were to yawn beneath my feet, I would willingly precipitate myself into its gulf, if the alternative of that, or an union with you, were proposed to me.” Rage swelled Cavigni’s bosom almost to bursting--the conflicting passions of his soul were too tumultuous for utterance;--in an hurried tone, he commanded Agnes to show Megalena to her cell: she obeyed, and they both quitted the apartment. Wolfstein’s soul, sublimed by the most infuriate paroxysms of contending emotions, battled wildly. His countenance retained, however, but one expression,--it was of dark and deliberate revenge. His stern eye was fixed upon Cavigni;--he decided at this instant to perpetrate the deed he had resolved on. Leaving his seat, he intimated his intention of quitting the cavern for an instant. Cavigni had just filled his goblet. Wolfstein, as he passed, dexterously threw a little white powder into the wine of the chief. When Wolfstein returned, Cavigni had not yet quaffed the deadly draught: rising, therefore, he exclaimed aloud, “Fill your goblets, all.” Every one obeyed, and sat in expectation of the toast which he was about to propose. “Let us drink,” he exclaimed, “to the health of the chieftain’s bride--let us drink to their mutual happiness.” A smile of pleasure irradiated the countenance of the chief:--that he whom he had supposed to be a dangerous rival, should thus publicly forego any claim to the affections of Megalena, was indeed pleasure. “Health and mutual happiness to the chieftain and his bride!” re-echoed from every part of the table. Cavigni raised the goblet to his lips: he was about to quaff the tide of death, when Ginotti, one of the robbers, who sat next to him, upreared his arm, and dashed the cup of destruction to the earth. A silence, as if in expectation of some terrible event, reigned throughout the cavern. Wolfstein turned his eyes towards the chief;--the dark and mysterious gaze of Ginotti arrested his wandering eyeball; its expression was too marked to be misunderstood:--he trembled in his inmost soul, but his countenance yet retained its unchangeable expression. Ginotti spoke not, nor willed he to assign any reason for his extraordinary conduct; the circumstance was shortly forgotten, and the revelry went on undisturbed by any other event.