CHAPTER IV.
The heart hath whispered in its bliss,
Who could be sad in scenes like this?
But, hist, a sound the night-wind bears,
A voice of love and sighs and tears!
MS. Poem.
AN instant, but a single instant, the lady remained upon his breast, and then Zanotti, removing her clinging arms, placed her upon the seat which he had himself just occupied. She looked upon him, her full dark eyes flowing with tears, and seemed struggling for utterance, but no words came! At length, with an averted face, he spoke—
"Your highness forgets our relative positions, and"—
"Forgets!" said she wildly, interrupting him; "forgets! Ay! I did indeed for a moment forget all but you; and you, Oh Carlo, is yours the voice to bring back reality? Is it for you to whom every pulsation of my heart has been dedicated; for whom in the long hours of night I have wept tears that seemed of blood—is it for you to restore me to a reality which contains no elements but those of despair, those that break hearts, those that frenzy the exhausted brain?"