"I have seen you give a letter to the Neapolitan, who departs to-morrow with the little Viennois,—perhaps to your friends at home."
"And that is all?"
"That is all."
"I have no friends at home. To whom, then, could the letter be?"
"How should I divine?"
"It was for the Austrian Government! Now love me, if you dare!"
"And do you suppose I did not know it?"
"Then is your love for me but a shield and mask?"
As I gazed in reply, my steady eyes, the soul that kindled my smile, my open arms, all must have asseverated for me the truth of my devotion.
"Still?" she said. "Still? And you can keep your faith to me and to
Italy?"