"Nay, wait a minute, Alcázar; I have something to say to you," and she withdrew, as usual, to the back of the box and began chatting with all her frank amiability. The young man breathed again; still, when she turned away to listen to the music, he was so unstrung and confused that he did not dare to kiss her hair, though it was plaited low, and the opportunity was propitious.
After a long pause Clementina suddenly turned on him and asked in a low voice:
"Why do you not kiss my hair, as you always do?"
His amazement was quite a shock to him. All the blood rushed to his heart, leaving him as pale as a corpse; then it mounted to his face, turning it to the colour of a poppy.
"I—your hair," he gasped abjectly. And he was forced to cling to a chair-back to save himself from falling.
"Do not be frightened, my dear fellow," she exclaimed, laying her hand on his. "If I allowed it, that is sufficient proof that I did not object." But seeing that he was gazing at her wildly, as if he did not understand her, she added: "Perhaps you imagine that I did not know that you care for me a little?"
The young man gave a convulsive cry.
"Yes, I have known it for some time," she went on in a still lower voice, and speaking into his ear. "But there is something which you do not know. And that is, that I care for you."
Casting a hasty glance round the house, to make sure that they were not observed, she took his hands in hers, and her breath was warm on his cheek as she said: "Yes, I love you—beyond anything you can imagine."
Clementina had not anticipated the effect of these words on her susceptible and effeminate adorer. The violent emotions he had gone through, and now the high tide of happiness, so completely upset him that he began to cry like a child. She hastily drew him into a corner, filling up the space between the curtains with her person. Her face was radiant with happiness.