“Young man, I can divine your thoughts,” said the hermit, hastily; “but drink, eat, and ask a blessing presently. Thou art famished, pause not to question my motives. I will explain them fully to thee when thy body is refreshed with that pure water and those delicious fruits.”
“Water shall not pass my lips, nor fruits assuage the cravings of hunger, until I know more of thee, old man!” exclaimed Wagner, a terrible suspicion flashing to his mind; and without another instant’s hesitation or delay, he made the sign of the cross.
A yell of rage and fury burst from the lips of the false anchorite, while his countenance became fearfully distorted—his eyes glared fiercely—his whole aspect changed—and in a few moments he stood confessed in shape, attire and features, the demon who had appeared to Fernand in the prison of Florence!
“Fiend! what wouldst thou with me?” exclaimed Wagner, startled and yet unsubdued by this appearance of the evil spirit amidst that region of desolation.
“Mortal,” said the demon, in his deepest and most serious tones, “I am here to place happiness—happiness ineffable—within thy reach. Nay, be not impatient: but listen to me for a few moments. ’Twas my power that conducted thy ship, amidst the fury of the storm which He whose name I dare not mention raised, to the shores of this island. ’Twas my influence which yesterday, as thou wast seated on the sunny banks, filled thine imagination with those delicious thoughts of Nisida. And it was I also who, by the wonders of the mirage, showed thee the form of the only female inhabitant of this isle. And that one female, Wagner—that woman who is now as it were within thy reach—that lovely being whose presence on this island would teach thee to have no regret for the world from which you are separated, and whose eyes would cast forth rays of joy and gladness upon everything around—that charming lady, who has already decked herself with those flowers which her fair hands have woven into wildly fantastic arabesques, that being is thy Nisida, the Island Queen.”
“Fiend! you mock—you deceive me,” cried Fernand, wildly hovering between joyous hope and acute fear.
“Did I deceive thee, Wagner, when I showed thee thy Nisida in the power of the corsairs?” said the demon, with a smile of bitter, sardonic triumph. “I tell thee, then, that Nisida is on this island—there, in the very region into which thou wouldst descend, but to which thou wilt find no avenue save by my aid.”
“Nisida is here—on this island,” exclaimed Fernand in an ecstasy of joy.
“Yes—and Stephano, the bandit, likewise,” added the demon. “It was his doublet which you found—it was he who slaked his thirst with the juice of the fruits which I, then invisible, beheld thee contemplate with attention.”
“Stephano here also!” cried Wagner. “Oh! Nisida—to thy rescue!”