"I speak," said Maulear, unable to restrain himself, "of a new and strange feeling to me, full of pleasure and pain, of hope and fear. I speak of a love, which will be the pride and joy of my existence, if it be shared; which will bring despair and torment, if she who inspires it rejects it."
"Pray be silent," said Aminta, rising and looking with fear around her.
"Ah, you have understood me," said Maulear, attributing to his confession Aminta'a emotion.
The young girl was silent. Her eyes turned towards the door of the hut, as if she feared some one would open it.
"What I say here, Signorina, with nought near me but the passing cloud and flying bird, I wish to repeat to those who love you—before your mother and brother, whom I would look on as my own. It is for you to tell me whether I shall speak to them or be silent."
Just then a faint noise was heard in the summer-house.
Maulear did not perceive it, for Aminta, more and more disturbed by the mysterious noise, had suffered the Marquis to take her hand, and the latter, interpreting this favor as his heart wished, fell on his knees before the young girl, who, overcome with emotion, sat down.
"Aminta," said he, passionately, "since the first day I saw you, my soul, my life, have been your own. If you but will it, your life shall be my own—my own, to make every hour of your life one of joy and pleasure—mine, in adoring you as we do the saints in heaven."
Maulear, with his eyes fixed on Aminta's, sought an echo to the outpourings of his soul. His lips were on Aminta's hand, when, between the young girl and himself, he saw a hideous head, made yet more horrid by the agony it expressed. Aminta suddenly withdrew, and Maulear experienced that terror of which the bravest are sensible when they tread on a reptile.
"Scorpione!" said the Marquis.