“And will you not return to your place among the friends who delight in your presence?” inquired the bashful maiden; “they are very anxious to see you. And I—I should like you—I should very much like you to be as you used to be; for then you were so kind, and talked to me so delightfully, and appeared so very happy.”
“I was very happy then,” exclaimed her companion, in a voice tremulous with emotion. “I loved and believed myself loved in return. But it is all over now; I have been deceived. Go and leave me.”
“And if you did love, Zabra,” murmured Lilya without daring to move her eyes from the ground, “if you are sure you loved—I think I’m convinced—that is, I mean, that if you do love, you must be loved in return.”
“No, no! I saw it too plain,” observed Zabra. “It’s beyond a doubt; it is evident—palpable—I cannot be mistaken. Why do you waste your time here? Have I not told you I wish to be alone?”
“Oh! do not look upon me so sternly,” exclaimed the gentle girl, with tears in her eyes; “indeed I wish to make you happy. I will never offend you. I will be all you desire. I will listen to you with the most perfect attention, and carefully remember every thing you tell me. Come, Zabra, come!” she continued, as she ventured tremblingly to lay hold of his hand. “Let me lead you to the kind friends who are so desirous of your presence; let me assure you that you are loved,” she added, as she raised the hand she held in her own to her lips, and pressed them softly and quickly upon it, and then, as if alarmed by her own temerity, she hastily dropped it and stood blushing and trembling by his side.
“No, no! I tell you no! I am not loved. I know it too well. Why do you come to me with your affectionate words and fond endearments? Take them to Oriel Porphyry; he can best appreciate them,” said her companion.
“Well, I will if you wish it, Zabra,” replied the simple girl. “I would do any thing to please you.”
“No doubt you would,” exclaimed Zabra sarcastically.
“Yes I would, Zabra; and I will go this moment and do what you require me:” and she had scarcely uttered the words before she hurriedly left the presence of her companion.
Zabra sat alone at his harp, half doubting in his mind whether it was simplicity or artifice that Lilya had exhibited; but as he remembered what both had confessed, he felt the conviction that she was again endeavouring to deceive him; and the miserable feeling thus created he endeavoured to express in the following words:—