And now was the time for a romantic love scene, suitable to the youth and beauty of the two participants, to the charm of the surroundings, to the May night, the moonlight, the odor of flowers, the ripple of the stream, and the preceding circumstances of the interview; and doubtless the conversation was poetic enough to the two who engaged in it, thanks to all these matters and to the glances, low tones of agitation, suppressed fervor, tremblings, etc.; but the talk in itself was no more original or impassioned than this:
"I'm glad you aren't hurt," said she.
"It would be a happiness to carry forever a wound received in such a cause,—'pon honor, it would!" said he.
"Will they come back, do you think? I sha'n't be able to sleep, the rest of the night, for fear of them!"
"You have nothing to fear. I shall keep guard under your window all night."
"Oh, no, sir! You will take cold."
"I cannot. I shall be on fire. My heart will glow with your image, which has occupied it ever since I saw you before the inn at Marlboro yesterday."
"Why, did you notice me then? I saw you looking out of the window, and I said to Celestine, 'What a frank and generous face! If my—if some person were but like that!'"
"You said that, really,—and meant it,—and mean it still?"
"Why, to be sure, how could I mean it less, after all that has happened to-night?"