“Certainly,” replied the duke. “Her eyes, as a poet says, are such as an eagle only can look at.”
“And her grace?” pursued the old woman; “and her voice?”
“Her voice! it is too beautiful to be lost in this solitude. You have nightingales enough, and goldfinches. Husband and wife must go with me.”
The thunder had fallen at the feet of Maria; and all the other words he spoke were as nothing.
“And do they wish it?” she cried in affright.
“They must wish it,” replied the duke, leaving the room.
Maria remained some moments confused and in a state of consternation. Then she went to find brother Gabriel.
“They are going,” she said to him, her eyes filled with tears, “they are going!”
“Thank God!” replied the brother. “They have enough deteriorated the marble pavement of the Prior’s cell. What will his reverence say when he comes back?”
“You have not understood me. Those who are going are Don Frederico and his wife.”