His cheek was livid, his eyes closed, his chest heaved wildly.

"Horrible remembrance!" he muttered; "fatal love--dread revenge! Inez--Inez, what hast thou to answer for!" "Be soothed, my son; I meant not to tear the bandage from thy wounds." "Who speaks ?" cried Calderon, starting.

"Ha, priest! priest! I thought I heard the Dead.

Talk on, talk on: talk of the world--the Inquisition--thy plots--the torture--the rack! Talk of aught that will lead me back from the past." "No; let me for a moment lead thee thither, in order to portray the future that awaits thee.

When, at night, I found thee--the blood-stained fugitive--cowering beneath the shadow of the forest, dost thou remember that I laid my hand upon thine arm, and said to thee, 'Thy life is in my power'?
From that hour, thy disdain of my threats, of myself, of thine own life--all made me view thee as one born to advance our immortal cause.