"If I love you, poor cherished one of my heart!" she said with a sigh as she laid her hand in his. "If I love you! Alas! I love you to death, Don Louis; and this love will kill me."
"Speak not so, my well-beloved angel! Dispel these gloomy thoughts: let us only think of our love."
"No, Don Louis, I have not come to you to speak of love: I have come to save you."
"To save me!" he said with feigned gaiety. "Do you believe me, then, to be in great peril?"
"Don Louis, you are running an immense risk. Take heed of my words. Do not look at me so with a smile: tomorrow you will be a lost man. All the measures are taken. I heard all: it is horrible! And that is the way I learnt your return to Guaymas, of which I was ignorant. Then I ran off madly, wildly to you, in order to say to you, 'Fly, fly, Don Louis!'"
"Fly!" he repeated thoughtfully. "And you, Angela, must I lose you again this time and for ever? No, I prefer death."
"I will go with you; for am I not your affianced, your wife in the sight of Heaven? Come, come, Don Louis, let us go—not lose a minute, a second. Your black horse will carry us beyond pursuit in two hours. But take your weapons, for I was followed by a man as I came here from my father's house."
She spoke with strange volubility, like a person talking in a fever. The count knew not what resolution to follow, when suddenly a loud noise was heard in the street, and the door, which was only leant to, flew wide open.
"Save me, save me!" the poor child exclaimed, a prey to indescribable terror.
Don Louis bounded on his pistols, and placed himself resolutely before her.