'
He spoke in the accents of that morning long ago; he seemed to have
regained the same passionate rapture: all his vaguely felt happiness
rose to his lips. And she sat motionless, listening with drooping head,
almost in the same attitude as on that day; and round her lips, those
lips which she vainly sought to keep firm, there played the same
expression of dolorous rapture.
'Do you remember Vicomile? Do you remember our ride through the wood on
that evening in October?'
Donna Maria bent her head slightly in sign of assent.
'And the words you said to me?' the young man went on in a lower voice,
but in a tone of suppressed passion and bending down to look into the
eyes she kept steadfastly fixed upon the ground.
She raised them now to his--those sweet, patient, pathetic eyes.
'I have forgotten nothing,' she replied, 'nothing, nothing! Why should I
hide my heart from you? You are good and noble-minded, and I have
absolute trust in your generosity. Why should I act towards you like an
ordinary foolish woman? I told you that evening that I loved you. Your
question implies another one, I see that very well--you want to ask me
if I love you still.'
She faltered for a moment and her lips quivered. 'I love you.'
'Maria!'
'But you must give up all claim upon my love, you must keep away from
me. Be noble, be generous, and spare me the struggle which frightens me.
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