Some of them she put aside with a smile, the others she read and became thoughtful. Then she locked the box and lay down on the sofa, looking at a little ring that glistened on her finger. It was an old, black enamelled ring, with an inscription in gold on it: A hora y siempre.
In the young lady's room, besides the door leading to her mother's apartment, there was another little door concealed in the wall, leading to some side stairs. Just as she became thoughtful over the ring, the door opened quietly and someone looked through it cautiously: the young lady turned her head, saw who it was, and rose from the sofa with an exclamation. The good-looking young Watzdorf stood before her. We saw him at Faustina's comically joking, and ironically sneering. To-day his face, usually ironical, bore quite another expression; it was almost sad and thoughtful.
The beautiful Frances, as if afraid at his appearance, stood silent.
Watzdorf seemed to beseech her forgiveness with his eyes.
'Christian, how could you!' she said at length, with a voice in which there was true or artificial emotion. 'How could you do this, when there are so many people about? Someone will see you and tell about it. The Princess is severe, and my mother--'
'Nobody could see me,' said Watzdorf coming nearer. 'Frances, my goddess! I have been waiting for hours under the stairs, in order to see you alone for a moment. Your mother prays with the Princess, there is nobody in the house.'
'Ah! those stolen moments!' cried Frances. 'I don't much like such secret happiness.'
'Patience, till the other comes,' said Watzdorf taking her hand. 'I hope--'
'Not I,' interrupted the girl, 'they will dispose of me, against my will, as they would dispose of a piece of furniture. The Princess, the Prince, my mother, Padre Guarini--I am a slave.'
'Then let us run away from here!'