"And what good would that be to you?" said Florentina reprovingly.
"I was alone in my room, my father is gone out—after speaking to me about you. You know what he said."
"No, I know nothing about it," said the girl, with her eyes fixed on her work.
"But I know.—My father is very kind and reasonable, and we are very fond of each other.... Well, when my father had left me, I took off the bandage and looked out at the fields; I saw the rainbow and I felt quite overcome with admiration, and with religious feeling too, Florentina—I do not know why that grand spectacle, which I had never seen before, should have given me so intense a feeling of the harmony of creation. I do not know why, looking at the perfect blending of its colors, I could not help thinking of you. I do not know why, as I saw the rainbow, I said to myself: 'I have felt this all before.' I felt again exactly as I felt when I first saw you, Florentina, my darling. My heart seemed ready to burst my bosom, and I could not help crying. I cried a great deal and my tears blinded me again for a few minutes—I called you and you did not answer—when I could see again, the rainbow had vanished. I went to look for you, I thought you were in the garden—I went down stairs, up stairs, and here I am. And now, here, I find you so lovely that I feel as if I had never seen you rightly till to-day—never till to-day, because now I have had time to learn to compare you with others. I have seen several women, and they are all horrible by your side. I find it hard to believe that you have lived through the years of my blindness.—Nay, nay. What I believe is that you came into being at the moment when light dawned upon my comprehension; that my own mind created you at the moment when I first was lord of the visible world. They had often told me that there was not a living creature to compare with you, and I would not believe it—but I believe it now, as surely as I believe in the light of heaven!"
And as he spoke he fell on one knee.
Florentina, startled and abashed, looked up from her sewing.
"Cousin—for pity's sake!" she murmured.
"Cousin for pity's sake!" exclaimed Pablo, with frank enthusiasm. "Why, why, are you so lovely? My father is most reasonable; I can say nothing against his arguments or his kindness.—Florentina, do you know I thought I could never love you; I thought I could love some one—not you. But what can I do? Thank God my love and my reason are one! My father, to whom I confessed my mistake; told me that I had loved a hideous monster. But now I can say that I worship an angel. The ignorant blind man can see, and at last pay due homage to real beauty. And yet I cannot help trembling—do you not see me tremble?—Seeing you I have but one desire, and that is, to take you in my arms and clasp you to my heart, enfolding you, holding you tightly—very tightly."
And Pablo, who was now kneeling on both knees, clasped his arms across his breast.
"Oh! I do not know what I feel!" he went on, stammering, and turning pale with agitation. "Every day I discover some new world, Florentina. First I discovered the world of light, to-day I have discovered another. Is it possible that you, so lovely—so divine—are to be mine, the wife of my heart?"