Since you do not repent of what you have done, replied she, I am willing to be obliged to you for another favour; and ask it with the greater hope of obtaining it, as I must acquaint you, it is by my father's command I take that liberty, who is much interested in my success.
There is no occasion, madam, returned I, to make use of any interest but your own, to engage me to obey you, since that is, and ever will be, all-powerful with me. Speak then, madam, and let me know what it is you desire of me, that I may, once in my life, have the glory of obeying you.
It is, said she, blushing still more than before, that you will acquaint us with the cause of that melancholy, which has, as we imagine, occasioned your present illness.
At these words I trembled, turned pale; and, not daring to discover the true cause of my affliction, I remained in a profound silence.
I see, said the beautiful Philonice, that you have no inclination to obey me; and since my request has, as I perceive, given you some disturbance, I will prevail upon my father to press you no farther upon this subject.
No, madam, said I, eagerly; the baron shall be satisfied, and you shall be obeyed; though after the knowledge of my crime, you doom me to that death I so justly merit.
Yes madam, this unfortunate man, who has had the glory to acquire your esteem by the little service he did you, has cancelled the merit of that service by daring to adore you.
I love you, divine Philonice; and not being able either to repent, or cease to be guilty of loving you, I am resolved to die, and spare you the trouble of pronouncing my sentence. I beseech you therefore to believe, that I would have died in silence, but for your command to declare myself; and you should never have known the excess of my love and despair, had not my obedience to your will obliged me to confess it.
I finished these words with so much fear and confusion, that I durst not lift my eyes up to the fair face of Philonice, to observe how she received this discourse. I waited therefore, trembling, for her answer; but finding that in several minutes she spoke not a word, I ventured at last to cast a languishing glance upon the visage I adored, and saw so many marks of disorder upon it, that I was almost dead with the apprehensions of having offended her beyond even the hope of procuring her pardon by my death.