She beheld the person of him
in whom she had been wont to find all integrity, and place all
confidence, and this might have induced her to apprehend no danger. And
yet with how much tender passion, with how distressful an indignation,
with what tumultuous sorrow did she witness his supposed crime? What
then must I do? What yet remains? I love her with a more frantic and
irresistible passion than ever. I cannot abstain from her.--I cannot
dismiss her.--I cannot forget her. Oh Imogen, too lovely, all-attractive
Imogen, for you I stand upon the very brink of fate! Nor is this all.
Soon should I leap the gulph, soon should forget every prudent and
colder prospect in the tumult of my soul, did not that cursed spectre
ever shoot across my path to dash my transports, and to mar my
enjoyments. Which way shall I turn? To leave her, that is impossible. To
possess her by open force and manly violence, that my fate forbids. My
understanding is bewildered, and my invention is lost.--Medoro!"--
Medoro received the well known signal, and stood before Roderic. He
waited not to be addressed, he read the purposes of the heart of the
magician. "Roderic," cried he, "this moment is the crisis of you[r]
destiny. The occasion, to which the curse pronounced upon you by the
inimical spectre refers, has already in part taken place.
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