--for the affection you avow. But you deceive yourself. I have pondered
well over the alternative I have taken. I do not regret nor repent--much
less would I retract it. The earth that you speak of, full of affections
and of bliss to others, has no ties, no allurements for me. I desire
only peace, repose, and an early death."

"Can it be possible," said the prince, growing pale, "that thou lovest
another? Then, indeed, and then only, would my wooing be in vain."

The cheek of the novice grew deeply flushed, but the color soon subsided;
she murmured to herself, "Why should I blush to own it now?" and then
spoke aloud: "Prince, I trust I have done with the world; and bitter the
pang I feel when you call me back to it. But you merit my candour; I
have loved another; and in that thought, as in an urn, lie the ashes of
all affection. That other is of a different faith. We may never--never
meet again below, but it is a solace to pray that we may meet above.
That solace, and these cloisters, are dearer to me than all the pomp, all
the pleasures, of the world."

The prince sank down, and, covering his face with his hands, groaned
aloud--but made no reply.

"Go, then, Prince of Spain," continued the novice; "son of the noble
Isabel, Leila is not unworthy of her cares. Go, and pursue the great
destinies that await you. And if you forgive--if you still cherish a
thought of--the poor Jewish maiden, soften, alleviate, mitigate, the
wretched and desperate doom that awaits the fallen race she has abandoned
for thy creed."

"Alas, alas!" said the prince, mournfully; "thee alone, perchance, of