of Saint Clare.”  Again they heard the voice of Lucio, and the nun said, “He calls again.  I pray you answer him.”  Isabel then went out to Lucio, and in answer to his salutation, said, “Peace and prosperity!  Who is it that calls?” Then Lucio, approaching her with reverence, said, “Hail, virgin, if such you be, as the roses in your cheeks proclaim you are no less! can you bring me to the sight of Isabel, a novice of this place, and the fair sister to her unhappy brother Claudio?” “Why her unhappy brother?” said Isabel, “let me ask:  for I am that Isabel, and his sister.”  “Fair and gentle lady,” he replied, “your brother kindly greets you by me; he is in prison.”  “Woe is me! for what?” said Isabel.  Lucio then told her, Claudio was imprisoned for seducing a young maiden.  “Ah,” said she, “I fear it is my cousin Juliet.”  Juliet and Isabel were not related, but they called each other cousin in remembrance of their school-days friendship; and as Isabel knew that Juliet loved Claudio, she feared she had been led by her affection for him into this transgression.  “She it is,” replied Lucio.  “Why then let my brother marry Juliet,” said Isabel.  Lucio replied, that Claudio would gladly marry Juliet, but that the lord deputy had sentenced him to die for his offence; “Unless,” said he, “you have the grace by your fair prayer to soften Angelo, and that is my business between you and your poor brother.”  “Alas,” said Isabel, “what poor ability is there in me to do him good?  I doubt I have no power to move Angelo.”  “Our doubts are traitors,” said Lucio, “and make us lose the good we might often win, by fearing to attempt it.  Go to lord Angelo!  When maidens sue, and kneel, and weep, men give like gods.”  “I will see what I can do,” said Isabel:  “I will but stay to give the prioress notice of the affair, and then I will go to Angelo.  Commend me to my brother:  soon at night I will send him word of my success.”

Isabel hastened to the palace, and threw herself on her knees before Angelo, saying, “I am a woeful suitor to your honour, if it will please your honour to hear me.”  “Well, what is your suit?” said Angelo.  She then made her petition in the most moving terms for her brother’s life.  But Angelo said, “Maiden, there is no remedy:  your brother is sentenced, and he must die.”  “O just, but severe law,” said Isabel:  “I had a brother then—­Heaven keep your honour!” and she was about to depart.  But Lucio, who had accompanied her, said, “Give it not over so; return to him again, intreat him, kneel down before him, hang upon his gown.  You are too cold; if you should need a pin, you could not with a more tame tongue desire it.”  Then again Isabel on her knees implored for mercy.  “He is sentenced,” said Angelo:  “it is too late.”  “Too late!” said Isabel:  “Why, no; I that do speak a word may call it back again.  Believe this, my lord, no ceremony that to great ones belongs, not the king’s crown, nor the deputed sword, the marshal’s truncheon, nor the judge’s robe, becomes them