"My marriage?" cried the other. "You will as likely see me there as that
shadow of a name which will be my bridegroom. You will see my
simulacrum, a plastered effigy of me. I shall be stiff with gold-dust
and diamonds; a doll marrying a doll's bed-gown. Why should I be there
if his ever-august Majesty is represented by a puff of silly breath?
Pray, never look for Bianca Maria in the Queen of the Romans. The Queen
of the Romans is a doll, windy ruler of the name of a people; Bianca
Maria Sforza, daughter of thieves, has been your friend, as you will
see. She has provided for your third husband an honest man. Now kiss me
for the last time and, by Heaven, go quickly, or I shall keep you here
for my soul's health."
The fierce little hungry creature threw her arms round Molly's neck and
kissed her like a lover.
Molly was melted into tears. "Oh, Bianca, you bewilder, you terrify me!
What is this of husbands and your soul?"
"Ah, my soul!" cried she. "Do you think so highly of it as to suppose
it will survive this marriage, or so lightly as not to care? My soul,
poor child, is in the case with your lovely body. It is the tied bird of
all these fowlers."
"Alas, alas! But I cannot understand," Molly wailed; but the other
caught her the closer.
"That you do not understand, Carina, is your salvation. It proves you
immortal. Now go. No! kiss me, kiss me!"
They were parted at last; and though they did meet again, they kissed no
more.