I took her. "I intend that you shall do more than wish me joy, child. I intend that you shall give it me, and be my joy."

This altered her tune. She quickly released herself and pointed to the victuals she had risked herself to get. "Let us eat," she said, "and talk afterwards. Forgive me if I troubled you just now. I have suffered and am a little over-wrought. Forgive me."

I kissed her again, she not forbidding me; we put our cloaks below that enormous figure of the Thinker, and sat down to our breakfast; we ate our sausages and drank our wine. Colour came back into Virginia's grave face, light danced in her eyes; she became more herself, but with an excitement latent within her which betrayed itself in little hasty acts of affection, quick movements, half caressing, half petulant—as if she would soothe me, and, half way, change her mood and be minded to scratch. I became interested, I wondered how long she would leave our affairs in doubt; rather unkindly, I held my tongue, just for the pleasure of seeing her make the next advance. And then—in spite of my curiosity—fatigue began to creep over me. I had been thirty-six hours awake, had bid an everlasting farewell to a mistress, restored, or done my best to restore, a banished wife to her husband's arms, shot a man, saved a virgin's honour, made matrimonial advances, run for my life. Here was a good day and a half's work. After a profusion of yawns, which, try as I would, I could not stifle, I said, "Forgive me, my dear, if I go to sleep. I find myself mortally tired—and you must be in the same case. Let us lie down here and rest ourselves."

"Sleep, my lord, sleep," said she, with beautiful, tender seriousness, and spread my cloak on a bench for me. She took off my sword and knelt, as her custom of old had been, to kiss my hand. I felt then that I must needs love this loving child. I lifted her up, and, "Kneel no more to me, my girl," I said. "You and I are ruined together. I cannot obey my father, who will disinherit me. You are no better off. Hunted animals don't kneel to each other, but league themselves to face their persecutors. Virginia, be mine!"

She said nothing, and would not meet my eyes. I drew her to me, embraced her with my arm, kissed her cold lips.

"Do you know what I am doing, Virginia?" I said. "Do you know what I need of you, my only friend?"

"Yes, Don Francis," she said. "You are making love to me, and it is your right. I have never refused you, and never shall. But you must not ask me to marry you."

If I were nettled, it was because a man, having made up his mind, is not willingly thwarted—for no other reason. But I do not know that I can accuse myself even of so much. I did not let her go, nor did I cease to kiss her. I told her, I believe, with as much calmness as is possible under the circumstances, that I was perfectly determined; I said that she need have no fear of the future, even though in taking me she would take no such fortune as I ought to offer to my wife. She flamed up at this and cried out that she wanted no fortune and had never led me to believe it. "Well and good, child," I replied, "in that case you need have no fears at all, for I, on my side, can ask you to admit that I have given you no reason to suppose me a villain. If I take you and all that you have, believe me I shall give you in return my mind and affection as well as the respect and gratitude which you have already. Believe me, Virginia—"

She moaned and rocked herself about. "Oh, I love you so! Oh, do not tempt me—oh, my lord, my lord, what shall I do? Oh, Madonna purissima, help me now!" I caught her to my heart.

"Virginia! as beautiful as you are true, you are worthy of a better love than mine," I cried. "But a more tender love you will never have. Friend, saviour, dear and faithful, beloved companion, I need you— come!"