Words seemed choked within her, and the effort to speak
produced only sobs. Isabella's eyes filled with tears.
"Speak," she said, more gently; "Marie--say only why thou didst fly
me, when I had given no evidence, that the boon thou didst implore me
to grant, had become, by thy strange confession, null and void. What
urged thy flight?"
"Not my own will. Oh, no--no, gracious Sovereign; I would have
remained a contented prisoner with thee, but they bore me away to such
scenes and sounds of horror that their very memory burns my brain. Oh,
madam! do with me what thou wilt, but condemn me not to return to that
fearful place again. Death, death itself--ay, even such a death as
Arthur has escaped--were mercy in its stead!"
"Of what speakest thou, Marie? Who could have dared bear thee from our
protection without thine own free will? Thy mind has been overwrought
and is bewildered still; we have been harsh, perchance, to urge thee
to speak now: repose may--".
"Repose! Oh, no--no; let me remain with thee!" she sobbed, as
forgetful of either state or form, her head sunk on Isabella's knee.
"He has borne me from your highness' power once; he can, he may, I
know he will again. Oh, save me from him! It was not because of my
faith he bore me there, and tempted and tortured and laughed at my
agony; he taunted me with his power to wreak the vengeance of a
baffled passion upon me--for, as a Jewess, who would protect me? Oh,
mighty Sovereign! send me not from thy presence.
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