“Ah, what risk you have run to come here!” exclaimed the eountess. “I tremble to think of it. If you should be discovered——”
“Reassure yourself, dear Beata, I shall not be discovered,” replied Bonnivet, passionately. “Oh, let me gaze at you! Let me satisfy myself that I behold you once more. By Heaven!” he exclaimed, yet more passionately, and pressing her to his bosom, “you look lovelier than ever. Oh, Beata, I would have laid siege to Milan to procure the happiness of this interview. But fortune has been against me, and has baffled all my efforts.”
“And you have quitted the camp to come here?” said the eountess. “You have risked more than life in doing so.”
“But I am now fully repaid,” he rejoined.
“You would persuade me that you love me deeply,” she said.
“Have I not proved my devotion by this act?” he rejoined. “Lovers, they say, are mad, and those who understand not what love is, and have never felt its pains, would deem me mad. Impelled by this madness, or passion—call it what you please—I have left my army to the care of the Comte de Saint-Pol, and have ventured among my enemies. But he who dares much will be rewarded, as I am.”
“How did you contrive to enter the city?” demanded Beata. “I marvel how you could elude the vigilance of the guard.”
“I have a safe-conduct from Giovatini de' Medici,” replied Bonnivet. “I came hither as Galeazzo Visconti.”
“But your return will be attended with even greater risk,” said Beata. “If you should be captured, I shall never forgive myself, for I shall feel that I have been the cause of the disaster.”
“Have no misgivings, Beata,” said Bonnivet, smiling confidently. “I am not destined to be captured. Do not let us mar the happiness of our brief interview by any thoughts of danger. Let us think only of ourselves—of our love. When we are separated—when I am again with the army, and you are alone in this chamber—we shall regret each moment we have wasted.”