“Madness—it would be madness!”
He was not acute enough to perceive that she was talking to herself—trying to bring her reason to help her to hold out against the throbbing of her heart—his heart.
“It would indeed be madness for us to turn our backs upon happiness when it is within our reach,” said he. “That is what you would say, sweet saint?”
But she had now recovered herself.
“Indeed it is because I have no thought except for your happiness that I entreat of you to listen to me,” said Fanny.
“I will listen to you if you tell me in one word that you love me,” said he.
There was no pause before she turned her eyes upon him saying:
“You know it. You have never doubted it. It is because I love you so truly I wish to save you from unhappiness. I want to hold your love for ever and ever.”
“My sweet saint! You have heard my prayers. You are to make me happy.”
“All that I can promise as yet is to save you from supreme unhappiness. I am strong enough to do so, I think.”