"As love, do you mean?" demanded Morley, with some surprise.
"No, no, no," replied his fair companion with playful vehemence; "I can easily conceive love, though I never felt it, and can conceive its leading one to anything, to excess of every kind, jealousy, revenge, sacrifices of all kinds--everything, in short, but marriage. Why any man, because he is attached to a woman, should wish her to make herself a slave, I cannot understand; but still less, how any woman can consent to such a folly. She would love him ten times better if she were not bound by a hard oath; and he would not so soon cease to love her, as men usually do, if he did not first make her a slave."
Morley did not reply, but went on musing, and Veronica once more brought back the conversation to the subject of love, uttered a few gay and saucy sentences in defiance of the great power, and then fell into a more pensive train, ending in a fresh reverie.
Thus passed the day; and when they once more reached the steps of her own house, she said--"I will not ask you to stay with me to-day, for I must go to the theatre. You may come and see me there if you like. You will not often have the opportunity, for I have to-day taken a resolution to give up the stage for ever. I require it no longer as a resource, and my feelings are changed towards that profession in which I once found triumph and delight. I used to imagine that there is something glorious in embodying a great writer's conceptions, or in giving voice to the melodious visions of some great composer; but now, I know not why, I feel sick of it altogether, so I shall only sing the five nights for which I am engaged, and once more for the poor of the city. Come and hear me then!--But do not applaud. I would not for one half of Europe see you clap your hands with the vulgar crowd; I should not be able to sing a note afterwards."
Had Morley Ernstein been experienced in love, he would have known the invariable maxim that the moment a woman separates one particular man from the rest of the world in her feelings towards him--whatever seeming those feelings may put on--the gates of the heart are thrown open for love to ride in triumphant.
Morley was not experienced, however; he went to the theatre, and he saw Veronica in one of those tragic operas where song gives intenser voice to passion. He obeyed her instructions to the letter, for the deep and breathless interest that he took in the scene, the thrilling delight that the full, rich, exquisite tones of her voice produced, left no room for that critical approbation from which springs applause. He was near enough for her to see him as well as he saw her, and for a moment, when their eyes first met, her voice sank and wavered; but then it burst forth again with power only increased, and the rapturous plaudits of all who were there present, showed that she had that night excelled all which she had ever done before.
Morley waited for her coming out, and offered her his hand to lead her to her boat. She seemed pale and fatigued; he uttered not a word of praise or admiration, but led her on almost in silence.
"You must not come to-night," she said; "I am tired and exhausted, so I will go to bed and sleep. Come early to-morrow, we will see sights all day, and in the evening I will have some people to meet you at dinner whom you will like to see. Canova is here, and--"
"Pray do not have any one," said Morley, "unless you yourself wish it. I would rather spend the evening as we spent the last."
She looked in his face by the moonlight for a moment as they stood by the edge of the canal, and then answered, in a voice tremulous and almost mournful, "It shall be as you like."