It was the day before the duke took the fatal draft which he believed was to confer on the mortal the immortal boon, that, finding my power over him was gone, I abandoned him to his doom.

But a truce with this: I loved your grandsire! I would save the last of his race.

Oppose not thyself to Zanoni.

Yield not thy soul to thine evil passions.

Draw back from the precipice while there is yet time.