Bianca looked at him with a bewildered expression. The blood left her face and she became very pale.
"What—you came here to do?" she repeated, slowly—"here? I do not understand."
"Ah, no? You do not understand? Then I will take your advice—I will make you understand." The words came to his lips fast enough now.
"Dear," he burst out, "you shall understand. I love you! Do you know what it means—love? I have loved you ever since that night—that Christmas night—when you looked into my eyes with yours. Do you understand now? I know I have no right to love you—no right to ask you to be my wife—for you are Donna Bianca Acorari, Princess of Montefiano, and I am—nobody. But this is what I have come to ask you—only this—whether you love me? If you do, I swear by God and by the Son of God that I will marry you, or I will marry no woman. If you do not love me, or will not love me, send me away from you—now, at once."
Bianca Acorari sprang up from her chair.
"Me?" she exclaimed. "You love me? Ah, but it is absurd—how can you love me? You are mad—or dreaming. You have forgotten. It is she you love—that other one—"
Silvio seized her hand almost roughly.
"Bianca!" he said, hoarsely, "what, in God's name, do you mean? I love you—you only. I have never looked at another woman—I never knew what love meant till I saw you."
Suddenly Bianca began to tremble violently. In a moment Silvio's arms were round her, and he was pressing hot, passionate kisses to her lips.
"Bianca!" he exclaimed. "Tell me—for God's sake, tell me—"