Ordonio. Why that's my case; and yet the soul recoils from it— 85
'Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps,
Have sterner feelings?

Isidore. Something troubles you.
How shall I serve you? By the life you gave me,
By all that makes that life of value to me,
[[862]] My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you, 90
Name it, and I will toil to do the thing,
If it be innocent! But this, my lord!
Is not a place where you could perpetrate,
No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness,
When ten strides off we know 'tis cheerful moonlight, [95]
Collects the guilt, and crowds it round the heart.
It must be innocent.

Ordonio. Thyself be judge.
One of our family knew this place well.

Isidore. Who? when? my lord?

Ordonio. What boots it, who or when?
Hang up thy torch—I'll tell his tale to thee. [100]
[They hang up their torches on some ridge in the cavern.
He was a man different from other men,
And he despised them, yet revered himself.

Isidore (aside). He? He despised? Thou'rt speaking of thyself!
I am on my guard, however: no surprise. [Then to Ordonio.
What, he was mad?

Ordonio. All men seemed mad to him! 105
Nature had made him for some other planet,
And pressed his soul into a human shape
By accident or malice. In this world
He found no fit companion.

Isidore. Of himself he speaks. [Aside.
Alas! poor wretch! 110
Mad men are mostly proud.

Ordonio. He walked alone,
And phantom thoughts unsought-for troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities; and with these shadows
His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happened, 115
A fancy crossed him wilder than the rest:
To this in moody murmur and low voice
He yielded utterance, as some talk in sleep:
The man who heard him.—
Why did'st thou look round?

Isidore. I have a prattler three years old, my lord! [120]
[[863]] In truth he is my darling. As I went
From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep—
But I am talking idly—pray proceed!
And what did this man?