"My life! my love! my darling Daphnè! I love you—I swear it to you from my heart. I do not desert you: you are the only one I care for!"
In the meantime Clotilde had approached the touching scene.
"'Pon my word, sir! very well"—she said—"am I to return to the
Chateau by myself?"
"Go, sir, go!" said Daphnè, pushing him away, "You are waited for, you are called."
"But, Daphnè—but, fair cousin"—
"I won't listen to you—my daydream is past—speak of it no more," said Daphnè.
"Do you know, cousin," said Clotilde, with a malicious sneer, "that this rural surprise is quite enchanting! I am greatly obliged to you for getting it up for my amusement. You did not prepare me for so exquisite a scene; I conclude it is from the last chapter of the Astrea."
"Ah! cousin," said Hector, "I will overtake you in a moment—I will tell you all, and then I don't think you'll laugh at us."
"Excuse me, sir," cried Daphnè, in a tone of disdainful anger— "let that history be for ever a secret. I do not wish people to laugh at the weakness of my heart. Farewell, sir, let every thing be forgotten—buried!"
Large tears rolled down the poor girl's cheek.