Doña Emilia stood for a moment as if annihilated by the sudden revelation of this love, which she suspected, though unwilling to believe in it. A reaction took place in her, and she laid her hand on the young man's arm.
"Go, Don Melchior," she said in a gentle voice, half choked by sobs. "My daughter loves you, and will not have you die."
"Thanks, thanks, mother!" the maiden exclaimed, as she fell into her arms, and hid her face in her bosom.
"Oh, let me, let me die with you!" Don Melchior said, clasping his hands imploringly.
"No," Doña Emilia repeated, "you must leave us."
"The night is getting on; I implore you, Melchior to be gone!" the maiden exclaimed.
The young man hesitated, and a violent combat took place in his heart.
"It is your wish," he muttered, with hesitation.
"In the name of our love, I command you!"
"Your will be done. Bless me, madam, for I shall return, and for your sake attempt impossibilities."