"Oh! I have been waiting for you so long and so impatiently," she said, as she placed him a chair at her dressing-room fireside.
"I came as soon as all was quiet. Oh, Faustina, how I am sinking my soul in sin and infamy for your sake!" exclaimed Lord Vincent, as a momentary qualm of shame sickened his heart.
"Do you repent it, then?" she inquired, with a glance that brought him to her feet, a slave once more, "do you repent it?"
"No, my angel, no! though we go to perdition, we go together! And it is joy and glory to lose myself for you—for you!" he exclaimed passionately, and attempting to embrace her.
"Ha! stop! beware! You are not free yet—nor am I your wife!" exclaimed the artful woman, withdrawing herself from his advances.
"But I shall be free soon, and you shall be my wife. You know it, Faustina. You know that I am your slave. You can do with me as you please. Then why be so cruel as to refuse me even one kiss?"
"That I may have nothing to reproach myself with in after time—when I shall be Lady Vincent. That you may not have to blush for your second viscountess, as you have had to blush for your first."
"Oh, Faustina, how coldly cruel and calculating you sometimes seem to me! Why do I love you so insanely that you possess my very soul? Why is it, beautiful witch?"
"Because I love you so much, mon ami."
"You do, you do! You really love me, 'Tina?"