Isidore. If every atom of a dead man's flesh [45]
Should creep, each one with a particular life,
Yet all as cold as ever—'twas just so!
Or had it drizzled needle-points of frost
Upon a feverish head made suddenly bald—

Ordonio. Why, Isidore,
I blush for thy cowardice. It might have startled, [50]
I grant you, even a brave man for a moment—
But such a panic—

Isidore. When a boy, my lord!
I could have sate whole hours beside that chasm,
Push'd in huge stones and heard them strike and rattle
Against its horrid sides: then hung my head 55
Low down, and listened till the heavy fragments
Sank with faint crash in that still groaning well,
Which never thirsty pilgrim blest, which never
A living thing came near—unless, perchance,
Some blind-worm battens on the ropy mould [60]
Close at its edge.

Ordonio. Art thou more coward now?

Isidore. Call him, that fears his fellow-man, a coward!
[[861]] I fear not man—but this inhuman cavern,
It were too bad a prison-house for goblins.
Beside, (you'll smile, my lord) but true it is, [65]
My last night's sleep was very sorely haunted
By what had passed between us in the morning.
O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at
By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance—
Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing, [70]
But only being afraid—stifled with fear!
While every goodly or familiar form
Had a strange power of breathing terror round me![861:1]
I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;
And, I entreat your lordship to believe me, 75
In my last dream——

Ordonio. Well?

Isidore. I was in the act
Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra
Wak'd me: she heard my heart beat.

Ordonio. Strange enough!
Had you been here before?

Isidore. Never, my lord!
But mine eyes do not see it now more clearly, [80]
Than in my dream I saw—that very chasm.

Ordonio (after a pause). I know not why it should be! yet it is—