“All in good season, Ben; not now. No, no! you shall see me when you least look for me, and there will be time enough for all these matters then. They'll keep. For the present, let me say to you that we must part now within the hour. You must swear not to dog my steps, and I will swear to give you carte blanche, and the first privileges at my princess, when I leave her. This is my bargain. I make no other.”
“I've a great mind not to leave you,” said the other doggedly.
“And what will that resolution bring you, do you fancy? Do you suppose I am to be tracked in such a manner? No, Ben! The effect will be to make me set off for the east instantly, whether you go with me or not; and an equally certain effect will be to make us cut loose for ever.”
“You're a d—-d hard colt to manage,” said the other moodily.
“I sha'n't let myself be straddled by every horse-boy, I assure you.”
“Come, come, old fellow, that's too much like horse-play. Don't be angry with me. I'll accept your conditions.”
“Very good,” said Stevens; “if you did not, Ben, it would be no better for you; for, otherwise, you should never even see my beauty!”
“Is she so very beautiful, old boy?”
“A queen, I tell you! a proud, high-spirited, wild beauty of the mountains—a thing of fire and majesty—a glorious woman, full of song and sentiment and ambition—a genius, I tell you—who can improvise like Corinne, and, by the way, continually reminds one of that glorious creature. In Italy, she would have been greater than Corinne.”
“And you've won her—and she loves you?”