'The Marchesa then put into my hand the Blackguard's Dictionary, which I studied night and day with much success; and I have now the misfortune to state, that I can be, so far as language goes, the greatest blackguard in England.'
'Unhappy youth!' cried I. 'This, indeed, accounts for what had often made me uneasy. But say, can nothing absolve you from this hateful vow?'
'There is one way,' he replied. 'The Marchesa permitted me to resume my natural elegance, as soon as my marrying should put an end to competition between her son and me. Oh! then, my Cherubina, you, you alone can restore me to hope, to happiness, and to grammar!'
'Ah! my lord,' cried I, 'recollect my own fatal vow. Never, never can I be your's!'
'Drive me not mad!' he cried. 'You are mine, you shall be mine. This, this is the bitterest moment of my life. You do not, cannot love me. No, Cherubina, no, you cannot love me.'
I fixed my eyes in a wild gaze, rose hastily from my chair, paced the room with quick steps; and often sighing deeply, clasped my hands and shuddered.
He led me to the sofa, kissed the drapery of my cambric handkerchief, and concealed his face in its folds. Then raising his head.
'Do you love me?' said he, with a voice dropping manna.
A smile, bashful in its archness, played round my rich and trembling lip; and with an air of bewitching insinuation, I placed my hand on his shoulder, shook my head, and looked up in his face, with an expression half reproachful, half tender.
He snatched me in a transport to his heart; and that trembling pressure, which virtue consecrated, and love understood, conveyed to each of us an unspeakable sensation; as if a beam from Heaven had passed through both our frames, and left some of its divine warmth behind it.