"Would you have me declare that I love you?"
"Oh! you cannot--you do not--"
"You have not asked the question!"
"No, lady. I too much dread the answer."
"Ho! what a coward you have grown of late! A pity I am not masked.
Shall I draw this veil? Ha, ha, ha!"
It was not the manner of love. Love laughs not. My heart was heavy; I
made no reply, but with eyes upon the ground, sat in my saddle, feeling
like one condemned.
For some moments her laughter rang in my ears, as I fancied, in mockery.
Her sweet silvery voice only grated upon my heart. Oh, that I had
never listened to its siren tones!
I heard the hoof-stroke of her horse; and, looking up, saw that she was
moving away from the spot. Was she going to leave me thus?
She spurred towards the centre of the glade, where the ground was
higher, and there again pulled up.
"Come hither, cavallero!" she cried, beckoning to me with her small
gloved hand.
Mechanically, I moved forward to the spot.
"So, gallant capitan! you who are brave enough to meet a score of foes,
have not the courage to ask a woman if she loves you!"
A dismal smile was my only reply to this bitter badinage.
"Ah! capitan," she continued, "I will not believe it; ere now you have
put that dreaded interrogatory--often, I fear too often."
I looked at her with surprise. There was a touch of bitterness in the
tone. The gay smile was gone; her eyelids drooped; her look was turned
upon the ground.
Was this real, or only a seeming? the prelude to some abrupt antithesis?
some fresh outburst of satire?
"Senorita!" said I, "the hypothesis, whether true or false, can have but
little interest for you."
She answered me with a smile of strange intelligence. I fancied there
was sadness in it. I fancied--
"We cannot recover the past," said she, interrupting my thoughts; "no,
no, no! But for the present--say again--tell me again that you love
me!"
"Love you!--yes, lady--"
"And I have your heart, your whole heart?"
"Never--can I love another!"
"Thanks! thanks!"
"No more than thanks, Isolina?"
For some moments she remained silent, her eyes averted from me; she
appeared struggling with some emotion.
"Yes, more than thanks," she replied at length; "gratitude! three things
more--if they will suffice to prove my gratitude."
"Name them!"
"Why should prudery tie my tongue? I promised to be candid. I, too,
came here to make confession. Listen! Three things I have said. Look
around you!--north, south, east, and west--the land you see is mine; be
it yours, if you will."
"Isolina!"
"This, too, can I bestow,"--she held forth her little hand, which I
clasped with fervid emotion.
"More! more! the third?"
"The third, on second thoughts, I cannot give; 'tis yours already."
"It is--?"
"_Mia corazon_" (My heart).
Those splendid steeds, like creatures of intelligence, appeared to
understand what was said; they had gradually moved closer and closer,
till their muzzles touched and their steel curbs rang together. At the
last words, they came side by side, as if yoked in a chariot. It
appeared delight to them to press their proud heaving flanks against
each other, while their riders, closing in mutual clasp, leaned over and
met their lips in that wild fervid kiss--the climax of love.