“Bother the trousseau! You would order it from Paris, anyway, so you can get it just as easily when we go over.”
“I am not ready to be married yet, Florian, trousseau or no trousseau. I don’t want to be married so young.”
“But, darling, how long do you expect me to wait?”
“Until I choose to name the day, sir, and if you get too impatient, you are welcome to take back your freedom,” saucily.
“Oh, Viola, I should never wish to do that!” he groaned, clasping her little jeweled hand and pressing his hot lips upon it while he continued: “Viola, I may be absent for months, and I shall go mad with jealousy of the fortunate men who will be near you, who can feast their eyes on your beauty and hear your sweet voice and rippling laughter. Oh, are you sure, quite sure, that your love will last while I am gone, that you will be true to your promise?”
“If you can not trust my love, if you are beginning to doubt me already, we had better break off now!” she cried, spiritedly.
“My beautiful love, how can you torture me so when I am already so unhappy?” groaned Florian.
“Then why will you be so silly? Do you not know that I have never loved any one but you, Florian, and never shall?” cried Viola, rashly, melted to tenderness by his grief and really feeling very sad indeed over his going, so that she took a very lukewarm emotion for eternal love.
Florian was transported with joy over her fond declaration, and again renewed his entreaties for an immediate marriage, but was soon warned off by her rising vexation.
“I must go and make my preparations for leaving at once,” he said, sadly, rising. “Oh, Viola, it breaks my heart to leave you, my precious one! Will you promise to write to me often if I am detained long?” pleadingly.