“Still thou art in error,” said the princess; “but this is no time for explanation. Fly, virtuous youth, while it is in my power to save thee. Should my father return, thou and I both should indeed have cause to tremble.”
“How?” said Theodore, “thinkest thou, charming maid, that I will accept of life at the hazard of aught calamitous to thee? better I endure a thousand deaths.”
“I run no risk,” said Matilda, “but by thy delay. Depart; it cannot be known that I assisted thy flight.”
“Swear by the saints above,” said Theodore, “that thou canst not be suspected; else here I vow to wait whatever can befall me.”
“Oh, thou art too generous,” said Matilda; “but rest assured that no suspicion can alight on me.”
“Give me thy beauteous hand in token that thou dost not deceive me,” said Theodore; “and let me bathe it with the warm tears of gratitude.”
“Forbear,” said the princess; “this must not be.”
“Alas!” said Theodore, “I have never known but calamity until this hour—perhaps shall never know other fortune again: suffer the chaste raptures of holy gratitude: ’tis my soul would print its effusions on thy hand.”
“Forbear, and be gone,” said Matilda; “how would Isabella approve of seeing thee at my feet?”
“Who is Isabella?” said the young man with surprise.