"But what am I thinking of!" he suddenly said to himself; "am I not a most absurd novice? Did she not stop here in order to invite me to prolong an ardent tête-à-tête? I took that sudden fatigue, that fancy to sit in the first garden that we came to, for an honest explanation of the confusion she felt—was it not intended as an encouragement to my uncouth timidity?"
He eagerly approached the princess, feeling emboldened by the shadow of the arbor. The bench was so small that, unless he asked her to make room for him, he could not sit beside her. He sat down on the grass, not precisely at her feet, but near enough to be nearer still ere long.
"Well, Michel," she said to him, with an indescribable sweetness in her voice, "are you also tired, pray?"
"I am worn out," he replied, in a tone of deep emotion which made the princess start.
"What do you mean? you are not ill, my child?" she said, putting out her hand, which came in contact with the young man's silky hair in the darkness.
With one bound he was at her knees, his head bent, as it were fascinated beneath that hand which did not repel him, his lips pressed to the hem of that floating silk dress which could not betray his transports; uncertain, beside himself, lacking courage to declare his passion, lacking strength to resist it.
"Michel," cried the princess, letting her hand fall again upon the young madman's burning brow, "you are feverish, my child! your head is burning! Yes, yes," she added, stroking his cheeks with affectionate solicitude, "you have had too much fatigue these last few days; you have been awake two nights in succession, and although you threw yourself on your bed for a few hours this morning, I doubt if you slept much. And I have led you on to talk too much to-night. You must go home. Let us walk on; you can leave me at the gate of my park and go home at once. I intended to say something to you to-night; but I am afraid that you are going to be sick; when you are thoroughly rested, perhaps I will speak to you."
She attempted to rise; but Michel was kneeling on the edge of her dress. He held against his cheeks, he put to his lips that lovely hand which did not seek to avoid his caresses.
"No, no," cried Michel, impetuously, "let me die here. I know very well that you will drive me from your presence forever to-morrow; I know that I shall never see you again, now that you see what is taking place within me. But it is too late, and I am going mad! Oh! do not pretend to believe that I am ill because I have worked by day and been awake all night! Do not be afraid to discover the truth; it is your own fault, signora, you would have it so! Could I resist so many temptations? Spurn me, Agatha, curse me; but to-morrow, to-night, give me the kiss I dreamed of in the Naiad's grotto!"
"Ah! Michel," cried the princess, in a tone impossible to describe, "did you feel it? did you see me? do you know all? Did somebody tell you, or did you divine it? It is God's will. And you fear that I will spurn you? you fear that I will curse you? O my God! is it possible? Pray, does not what is taking place in your heart reveal to you the love with which mine is overflowing?"