The heart of man is made up of strange contrasts. The count had wrapped himself up in his grief; he had, as it were, settled it in his mind, living with it and through it, making it in his own eyes an excuse for justifying the line of conduct he had traced for himself, or rather which his foster brother had made him adopt, only desiring and accepting the bitterness of life, and disdainfully rejecting the joy and happiness it contains. Now, though unable to account for the extraordinary revolution that had taken place in him, he instinctively felt that grief he had so nurtured and petted growing: less, and ready to disappear, to make room for a gentle and dreamy melancholy, which, before he thought of wrestling with it and tearing it from his heart, had put forth such powerful roots that he felt it had seized on his whole being.
This new feeling was love. All passions are in the extreme, and, above all, illogical. Were they not so, they would no longer be passions. Don Louis loved Doña Angela. He loved her with the love of a man who has reached the confines which separate youth from age; that is, furiously and frenziedly. He loved her and hated her at the same time; for he was angry with this new love, which caused him to forget the old, and revealed to him that the heart of man may at times slumber, but never die. The empire the maiden held over him was the stronger and more powerful, because physically and morally she afforded the most striking contrast to Doña Rosaria, the gentle creature with angel's wings, the count's first love. Doña Angela's majestic and severe beauty, her impetuous and ardent character—all in her had seduced and subjugated the count. Hence he was angry at the power he had unconsciously allowed her to gain over his will, and blamed as a weakness unworthy of his character the reaction which this love had effected in his heart, by obliging him to recognise that it was still possible for him to be happy.
Louis was far from forming an exception in the great human family. All men are alike. When they have arranged their existence under the influence of any feeling, either of joy or grief, they take pleasure in the continual development of that feeling, convert it into a portion of their being, and intrench themselves behind it as in an impregnable fortress; and when, by some sudden blow, the edifice they have taken such pains to construct falls in ruins, they feel angry with themselves for not having known how to defend it, and, as a natural consequence, blame the innocent cause of this great overthrow.
While reflecting, the count had let his head sink on his breast, isolating himself in his thoughts, and plunging deeper and deeper into his sombre reverie, following instinctively the incline on which his mind was at the moment gliding. He raised his eyes, and fixed on Doña Angela a glance in which all the feelings that agitated him were reflected. The maiden was lying back, with her face buried in her hands: the tears were slowly dropping between her fingers, and resembled a dew of pearls. She was weeping gently and noiselessly: her breast heaved convulsively, and she seemed a prey to intense grief. The count turned pale. He rose hurriedly, and walked toward her.
At this sudden movement Doña Angela let her hands sink, and regarded Don Louis with such a gentle expression of resigned grief and true love, that the count felt a thrill of happiness flush through his body. Exhausted, overcome, he fell on his knees, murmuring in a panting and broken voice,—
"Oh! I love you—I love you!"
The maiden half rose from her seat, bent over him, and regarded him for a long time pensively. Suddenly she fell into his arms, laid her head on his shoulder, and began sobbing. The count, alarmed by this grief, the cause of which it was impossible for him to discover, gently put her back on her chair, sat down by her side, and took her hand, which he held between his own.
"Why these tears?" he asked her tenderly. "Whence comes this grief that oppresses you?"
"No, I am not weeping. Look!" she replied, trying to smile through her tears.
"Child, you conceal something from me—you have a secret!"