"Iduna!" exclaimed Nicaeus, reproachfully. "Alas! Iduna, you are cruel,
but I did not expect this!"

"Dear Nicaeus!" she answered, "you always misinterpret me! It would
infinitely delight me to be restored to Hunniades by yourself, but
these are no common times, and you are no common person. You forget
that there is one that has greater claims upon you even than a forlorn
maiden, your country. And whether Iskander be at Croia or not, Greece
requires the presence and exertions of the Prince of Athens."

"I have no country," replied Nicaeus, mournfully, "and no object for
which to exert myself."

"Nicaeus! Is this the poetic patriot who was yesterday envying
Themistocles?"

"Alas! Iduna, yesterday you were my muse. I do not wonder you are
wearied of this castle!" continued the prince in a melancholy tone.
"This spot contains nothing to interest you; but for me, it holds all
that is dear, and, O! gentle maiden, one smile from you, one smile of
inspiration, and I would not envy Themistocles, and might perhaps rival
him."

They were walking together in the hall of the castle; Iduna stepped
aside and affected to examine a curious buckler, Nicaeus followed her,
and placing his arm gently in hers, led her away.

"Dearest Iduna" he said, "pardon me, but men struggle for their fate.
Mine is in your power. It is a contest between misery and happiness,