"But, Therese," said the emperor, mindful of his promise, "you must obey your father. It is your duty."
"No—I shall never marry," returned Therese, eagerly.
"Marriage is the only vocation fit for a woman," replied Joseph. "The wife is commanded to follow her husband."
"Yes, to follow the husband of her love," interrupted she, with enthusiasm. "And oh, it must be heaven on earth to follow the beloved one through joy and sorrow, to feel with his heart, to see with his eyes, to live for his love, or, if God grant such supreme happiness, to die for his sake!"
"Therese!" exclaimed Joseph, passionately, as, gazing upon her inspired countenance, he forgot every thing except his love.
She blushed, and her eyes sought the floor. "No," said she, as if communing with herself, "this blessing I shall never know."
"And why not?" cried he. "Why should one so young, so beautiful, so gifted as you, cast away the ties of social life and pass within the joyless portals of a convent?"
Therese said nothing. She sat ashamed, bewildered, entranced; and, in her confusion, her beauty grew tenfold greater. The emperor's resolutions were fast melting away.
Again he besought her in tender tones. "Tell me, my Therese; confide in me, for I swear that your happiness is dearer to me than my life." He bent closer, and seized her hands. His touch was electric, for a tremor took possession of them both, and they dared not look at each other. Joseph recovered himself, and began in low, pleading tones: "Look at me, beloved, and let me read my answer in your truthful eyes. Look at me, for those eyes are my light, my life, my heaven!"
Therese could not obey. Her head sank lower and lower, and deep, convulsive sighs rent her heart. The emperor, scarcely knowing what he did, knelt before her. She met his glance of intoxicated love, and, unable to resist it, murmured: