"A lily—a pupil—a seer!" clasping his hands in delight. "But, without loving, you may be loved?"
"I know not; and yet, since I returned from school, a youth has watched me, and even now he is weeping at the foot of the stairs."
"See his face!"
"He hides it in his hands."
"See through them."
"Gilbert!" she uttered with an effort. "Impossible that he would presume to love me!"
Balsamo smiled at her deep disdain, like one who knew that love will leap any distance.
"What is he doing now?"
"He puts down his hands, he musters up courage to mount hither—no, he has not the courage—he flees."
She smiled with scorn.