Now, Nisida! summon all thine energies to aid thee; for a strong, a powerful, a remorseless man, devoured with lust for thee, is near. And thou art so ravishingly beautiful in thy aerial drapery, and thy wreaths of flowers, that an anchorite could not view thee with indifference! Ah! Stephano starts—stops short—advances: the suspicion has struck him! The aquiline countenance, those brilliant large, dark eyes, that matchless raven hair, that splendid symmetrical maturity of form, and withal, that close compression of the vermilion lips, O Nisida! have been scanned in rapid detail by the brigand!
“Nisida!” he exclaimed; “Yes, it is she!”
And he bounded toward her with outstretched arms.
But the sharp sword was presented to his chest; and the lady stood with an air of such resolute determination, that he stopped short gazing upon her with mingled wonderment and admiration. Heavens! he had never beheld so glorious a specimen of female loveliness as that whereon his eyes were fastened,—fastened beyond the possibility of withdrawal. How glossy black was that hair with its diadem of white roses! How miserably poor appeared the hues of the carnations and the pinks that formed her necklace, when in contrast with her flushing cheeks! How dingy were the lilies at her waist, compared with her heaving breast!
The reason of the brigand reeled, his brain swam round, and for a moment it seemed to him that she was not a being of this world; not the Nisida he had known and carried off from Italy, but a goddess, another and yet the same in all the glory of those matchless charms which had heretofore ravished—no, maddened him!
And now the spirit of this bold and reckless man was subdued—subdued, he knew not how nor wherefore; but still subdued by the presence of her whom he had deemed lost in the waves, but who seemed to stand before him, with flowers upon her brow and a sharp weapon in her hand—radiant, too, with loveliness of person, and terrible with the fires of hatred and indignation!
Yes! he was subdued—overawed—rendered timid as a young child in her presence; and sinking upon his knees, he exclaimed—forgetful that he was addressing Nisida the deaf and dumb—“Oh! fear not—I will not harm thee! But, my God! take compassion on me—spurn me not—look not with such terrible anger upon one who adores, who worships you! How is it that I tremble and quail before you—I, once so reckless, so rude. But, oh! to kiss that fair hand—to be your slave—to watch over you—to protect you—and all this but for thy smiles in return—I should be happy—supremely happy! Remember—we are alone on this island—and I am the stronger; I might compel you by force to yield to me—to become mine; but I will not harm you—no, not a hair of your head, if you will only smile upon me! And you will require one to defend and protect you—yes, even here in this island, apparently so secure and safe;—for there are terrible things in this clime—dreadful beings, far more formidable than whole hordes of savage men—monsters so appalling that not all thy courage, nor all thy energy would avail thee a single moment against them. Yes, lady, believe me when I tell thee this! For many—many days have I dwelt, a lonely being, on the other side of this isle, beyond that chain of mountains—remaining on that shore to which the wild waves carried me on the night of shipwreck. But I hurried away at last—I dared all the dangers of mighty precipices, yawning chasms, and roaring torrents—the perils of yon mountains—rather than linger on the other side. For the anaconda, lady, is the tenant of this island—the monstrous snake—the terrible boa, whose dreadful coils, if wound round that fair form of yours, would crush it into a hideous, loathsome mass?”
Stephano had spoken so rapidly, and with such fevered excitement that he had no time to reflect whether he were not wasting his words upon a being who could not hear them; until exhausted and breathless with the volubility of his utterance he remembered that he was addressing himself to Nisida the deaf and dumb. But happily his appealing and his suppliant posture had softened the lady: for toward the end of his long speech a change came over her countenance, and she dropped the point of her sword toward the ground.
Stephano rose, and stood gazing on her for a few moments with eyes that seemed to devour her. His mind had suddenly recovered much of its wonted boldness and audacity. So long as Nisida seemed terrible as well as beautiful, he was subdued;—now that her eyes had ceased to dart forth lightnings, and the expression of her countenance had changed from indignation and resolute menace to pensiveness and a comparatively mournful softness, the bandit as rapidly regained the usual tone of his remorseless mind.
Yes; he stood gazing on her for a few moments, with eyes that seemed to devour her:—then, in obedience to the impulse of maddening desire, he rushed upon her, and in an instant wrenched the sword from her grasp. But rapid as lightning, Nisida bounded away from him, ere he could wind his arms around her; and fleet as the startled deer, she hastened toward the groves.