"You will," said she, "laugh at my ridiculous whims. What, however, do you expect of a poor child, raised like myself in solitude, uncultivated, and from character and taste a dreamer? Such a creature must indeed be strange to a Parisian. Perhaps, though you do not wish me thus to speak to you, such a creature has made a deeper impression on your imagination than on your heart. The terrible circumstances of our meeting also, the romantic origin of our acquaintance, may lead you into error in relation to sentiments which perhaps would be impotent, both against the enticements of the world and against absence."
"Ah!" said Maulear, with chagrin, "if those sentiments were shared—if he who experiences them were not indifferent to you, you, Signorina, would have confidence in them."
"I desire nothing better than to be satisfied that such is the case," said she, with charming naïvete. "Time, however, is required for that, and we have been acquainted only for a few days."
"Are years then required for us to love?" said Maulear. "For that a word, a look, suffice."
"In France, perhaps," replied Aminta; "in your brilliant saloons, with your gay countrymen, where all is so lively and spontaneous. Here though, in a modest villa, hidden by the orange trees of Sorrento, a young girl's heart is not disposed of so easily."
"Yes!" said Maulear, "our hearts are lost when we behold you."
"Marquis," said Aminta, "I do not know what the future reserves for us; I however repeat that I will always be sincere with you. Do not to-day ask me what I cannot give."
"What can you give me?" said Maulear in despair.
"Hope," said Aminta, with a blush, "that is all—"
Signora Rovero entered. Rejection and obstacles could not but surprise a man used as Maulear was to rapid triumphs and easy conquests. He was now seriously in love, and passion had become a link of his life. Suffering as he was from the uncertainty to which the reply of Aminta subjected him, he could not but admire her prudence and modest reserve, which, as it were, placed her heart beneath the ægis of reason. Besides, if, as Madame de Stael says, the last idea of a woman is always centred in the last word she utters, Aminta, by what she had last said, had delighted Maulear. She had said "Hope."