The hour seemed interminable. At first, he fixed his eyes upon the walk by which she must return; then he turned away, that he might wait until he heard her dear voice.
At last a light step approached the pavilion; he heard it coming up the steps, and a beloved voice spoke:
"The Marchioness de Bonaletta."
Eugene turned, and there, instead of Sister Angelica, stood his beautiful Laura in rich attire-so beautiful that he thought he had never sufficiently admired her before.
He started forward, and, dropping on one knee, took her little hand, and covered it with kisses. Then, rising, he flung his arm around her waist, and drew her to a seat.
"Now read me the riddle," said he.
"My beloved, do you think me so blind as not to have comprehended the immeasurable sacrifice you would have made to my womanly pride? Oh, how I thank you, my own, peerless Eugene! But I will not accept it. I may not bear your name, but God knows that I am your wife, as Eve was the spouse of Adam; and it is for me to show that our bond is holy, by enduring courageously the stigma of being considered as your mistress. Enough for me to feel that to you I shall be an honored and beloved wife, incapable of sharing your fame, but oh, how proud of my hero! Gird on your sword, my Eugene, and fulfil your glorious destiny. Go once more into the world, and let me share your fate."
"Let her share my fate! She asks me to let her share my fate." cried Eugene, pressing her to his heart. And God and Stature blessed the union that man refused to acknowledge.