“Where is the harm? The wife must follow her husband—a princess must reign in her dominions.”
“Princess! What do you mean? Wife! In what ridiculous promises have they induced you to confide?”
Florival’s offensive doubts were dissipated by the formal explanation which Delia took malicious pleasure in giving him. A touching scene ensued; the lovers, who had both gone astray for a moment, felt their former flame burn all the more ardently for its partial and temporary extinction. Pardon was mutually asked and granted, and ambitious dreams fled before a burst of affection.
“You shall see whether I love you or not,” said Florival to Delia. “Yonder comes Baron Pippinstir; I will take him into the summer-house; a closet is there, where you can hide yourself to hear what passes, and then you shall decide my fate.”
Delia went into the summer-house, and hid herself in the closet. There she overheard the following conversation:—
“What have you to say to me, Colonel?” asked the Baron.
“I wish to speak to your Excellency of an affair that deeply concerns you.”
“I am all attention; but I beg you to be brief; I am expected elsewhere.”
“So am I.”