“The hour approached, and the guests were arriving. Isidora, arrayed in a splendid and fanciful garb, and rejoicing in the shelter which her mask afforded to the expression of her pale features, mingled among the groupe. She walked one measure with Montilla, and then declined dancing on the pretence of assisting her mother in receiving and entertaining her guests.
“After a sumptuous banquet, dancing was renewed in the spacious hall, and Isidora followed the company thither with a beating heart. Twelve was the hour at which Melmoth had promised to meet her, and by the clock, which was placed over the door of the hall, she saw it wanted but a quarter to twelve. The hand moved on--it arrived at the hour--the clock struck! Isidora, whose eyes had been rivetted on its movements, now withdrew them in despair. At that moment she felt her arm gently touched, and one of the maskers, bending towards her, whispered, “I am here!” and he added the sign which Melmoth and she had agreed on as the signal of their meeting. Isidora, unable to reply, could only return the sign. “Make haste,” he added--“All is arranged for your flight--there is not a moment to be lost--I will leave you now, but meet me in a few moments in the western portico--the lamps are extinguished there, and the servants have neglected to relight them--be silent and be swift!” He disappeared as he spoke, and Isidora, after a few moments, followed him. Though the portico was dark, a faint gleam from the splendidly illuminated rooms disclosed to her the figure of Melmoth. He drew her arm under his in silence, and proceeded to hurry her from the spot. “Stop, villain, stop!” exclaimed the voice of her brother, who, followed by Montilla, sprung from the balcony--“Where do you drag my sister?--and you, degraded wretch, where are you about to fly, and with whom?” Melmoth attempted to pass him, supporting Isidora with one arm, while the other was extended to repel his approach; but Fernan, drawing his sword, placed himself directly in their way, at the same time calling on Montilla to raise the household, and tear Isidora from his arms. “Off, fool--off!” exclaimed Melmoth--“Rush not on destruction!--I seek not your life--one victim of your house is enough--let us pass ere you perish!”--“Boaster, prove your words!” said Fernan, making a desperate thrust at him, which Melmoth coolly put by with his hand. “Draw, coward!” cried Fernan, rendered furious by this action--“My next will be more successful!” Melmoth slowly drew his sword. “Boy!” said he in an awful voice--“If I turn this point against you, your life is not worth a moment’s purchase--be wise and let us pass.” Fernan made no answer but by a fierce attack, which was instantly met by his antagonist.