'What is it?' she asked quietly.
'A thief, dear lady,' answered Don Alberto, smiling; 'one who has forced your door to steal a sight of you——'
At the first word she had risen, turning towards him as she rose, and laying the lute on the table at her left, which was between her and the door.
'How dare you come here?' she cried, indignantly interrupting his pretty speech.
'I dare everything and—nothing,' he answered; 'everything for the happiness of seeing you and hearing your voice, but nothing else that can displease you! See, I do not move a step, I stand here your prisoner on parole, for I give you my word that I will not run away! I will stand here like a statue, or kneel if you bid me, or lie prostrate at your feet!'
'I bid you go, sir! I bid you leave me, for you have no right to be here!'
'No right? I have the right to live, sweet lady! The meanest creature has that.'
'I do not bid you die,' Ortensia answered with some contempt. 'I only tell you to go!'
'And so to die most painfully, for I cannot live without seeing you! Therefore I will do anything but go away before my eyes have fed me full of you and I can bear another day's fasting!'
'Then, sir,' said Ortensia proudly, 'it is I that will leave you; and if you mean in earnest not to displease me, you will not stay here.'