Isabella was gazing at him with a melancholy smile. "Dreamer!" said she, in a low trembling tone, that sounded to Joseph like heavenly music—" dreamer! the heart that through God's goodness is filled with love is of itself supernaturally magnified; for love is a revelation from heaven."
"Sweet priestess of love! how truly thou art the interpreter of our passion! For it is OURS, my Isabella, is it not? It is our love of which we speak, not mine alone. I have confessed to thee; now do the same by me. Tell me, my wife, didst thou hate the man to whom thy passive hand was given, without one thought of thee or of thy heart's predilections?"
How little he guessed the torture he inflicted! He looked into her eyes with such trusting faith, with such calm security of happiness, that her sweet face beamed with tender pity, while her cheeks deepened into scarlet blushes, as she listened to his passionate declarations of love. Poor Isabella!
"No," said she, "no, I never hated thee, Joseph. I had already heard enough to feel esteem for my future husband; and, therefore, I did not hate, I pitied him."
"Pity him, my own, and wherefore?"
"Because without consulting HIS heart, he was affianced to an unknown girl, unworthy to be the partner of his brilliant destiny. Poor Isabella of Parma was never made to be an empress, Joseph."
"She was, she was! She is fit to be empress of the world, for all poetry, all goodness, all intellect and beauty look out from the depths of her lustrous eyes. Oh, look upon me, star of my life, and promise to guide me ever with thy holy light!"
So saying, he took her in his arms, and pressed her to his tender, manly heart.
"Promise me, beloved;" whispered he, "promise never to leave me."
"I promise," said the pale wife, "never to forsake thee, until God calls me hence to—"