"I was only a child then," said Diane. "I had not then been dreaming of you for six solitary homesick years; my love had not then grown as my body grew; I had not lived two months in the midst of a court where licentious language and corrupt morals had made me cherish more fondly still the thought of our pure and holy affection."
"True, true, Diane!" said Gabriel.
"And now, do you, dear Gabriel, in your turn tell me of your devotion and passionate love for me. Open your heart to me, as I have laid mine bare to your gaze. If my words have sounded pleasantly in your ears, do you let me hear your voice telling me how much you love me, and how dearly you love me."
"Oh, as for me, I don't know," said Gabriel. "I cannot tell you that! Don't ask me about it, don't press me to ask myself, for it is too terrible!"
"But, Gabriel," cried Diane, in deadly terror, "it is your words that are terrible; don't you see that they are? What! You don't choose even to tell me that you love me?"
"If I love you, Diane! She asks me if I love her! Truly, then, yes, I do love you, like a madman, perhaps like a criminal!"
"Like a criminal!" cried Madame de Castro, beside herself with terror and amazement. "What crime can there be in our love? Are we not both free? Will not my father consent to our union? God and the angels must delight in such a love."
"Grant, oh, Lord, that she blaspheme not," cried Gabriel, in his heart, "even as I perhaps blasphemed myself, in speaking to Aloyse!"
"What can be the matter?" repeated Diane. "My dear, you are not sick, are you? And you, generally so strong, whence come these fanciful fears? For I have no fear when near you. I know that with you I am as safe as with my father. See, to recall you to yourself, to life and happiness, I press close to your breast without fear, my dearly beloved husband! I press my brow against your lips without hesitation."
Smiling bewitchingly, she approached him, her glorious face turned up to his, and her angelic glance soliciting his pure embrace.