“Yes—I have no doubt that I shall be enabled to fulfil that promise,” interrupted Laura, by way of changing the topic of discourse. “And now that you have given me to understand that you will not revive the useless but flattering, and, in some sense, agreeable proposals you made me just now, let us think only of the enjoyment of the present.”
“It shall be as you say, my angel,” returned Lorenzo; and he forthwith filled a glass with sparkling champagne, which he handed to his fair companion.
She quaffed it at a draught, and a flood of light seemed to suffuse her entire countenance, and render her eyes brilliant as diamonds: her lips, too, moist with the generous juice, acquired a deeper red—and her bosom panted with amorous longings.
Lorenzo beheld the effects of the rich fluid, and hastened to fill the glass again: then, ere he drained it of its contents, he studiously placed to his lips the side which Laura’s mouth had touched.
“You had two friends with you this afternoon in the Champs Elysées?” said the syren, interrogatively, when they were once more seated, half-embraced in each other’s arms, upon the sofa.
“Yes: one was a fellow-countryman of mine—the other a native of your land, my beloved,” answered Lorenzo. “But I must tell you the singular adventure that occurred to us: and, indeed,” he added, with a smile, “I am deeply indebted to a certain anonymous correspondent—for had it not been through him, I should not have this day visited the scene where I was fortunate enough to encounter you.”
“A singular adventure!” exclaimed Laura, with an admirable affectation of the most ingenuous curiosity.
“Judge for yourself, my angel,” replied Lorenzo then, taking Rosalie’s letter from his pocket, he handed it to Laura, who, consuming with strong desires though she were, could scarcely suppress a laugh as she perused the billet, with the contents of which she was already so well acquainted.
“And did you see the poor man who addressed you and your friends in this wild, romantic style?” she asked, restoring him the note.
“He did not make his appearance,” responded Barthelma. “But even if that letter were the production of some mischievous wag, or of a crazy person, I could not possibly feel otherwise than rejoiced at having been made the dupe of either a humourist or a madman: for, as I just now observed, the anonymous letter led to my meeting with you.”