lways a touch of artfulness.

"Well, this hour will shine on all my life like a diamond on a queen's
brow."

Francesca's only reply was to lay her hand on Rodolphe's.

"Oh dearest! for ever dearest!--Tell me, have you never loved?"

"Never."

"And you allow me to love you nobly, looking to heaven for the utmost
fulfilment?" he asked.

She gently bent her head. Two large tears rolled down Rodolphe's cheeks.

"Why! what is the matter?" she cried, abandoning her imperial manner.

"I have now no mother whom I can tell of my happiness; she left this
earth without seeing what would have mitigated her agony--"

"What?" said she.

"Her tenderness replaced by an equal tenderness----"

"_Povero mio_!" exclaimed the Italian, much touched. "Believe me," she
went on after a pause, "it is a very sweet thing, and to a woman, a
strong element of fidelity to know that she is all in all on earth to
the man she loves; to find him lonely, with no family, with nothing in
his heart but his love--in short, to have him wholly to herself."

When two lovers thus understand each other, the heart feels delicious
peace, supreme tranquillity. Certainty is the basis for which human
feelings crave, for it is never lacking to religious sentiment; man is
always certain of being fully repaid by God. Love never believes itself
secure but by this resemblance to divine love. And the raptures of that
moment must have been fully felt to be understood; it is unique in
life; it can never return no more, alas! than the emotions of youth. To
believe in a woman, to make her your human religion, the fount of life,
the secret luminary of all your least thoughts!--is not this a second
birth? And a young man mingles with this love a little of the feeling he
had for his mother.

Rodolphe and Francesca for some time remained in perfect silence,
answering each other by sympathetic glances full of thoughts. They
understood each other in the midst of one of the most beautiful scenes
of Nature, whose glories, interpreted by the glory in their hearts,
helped to stamp on their minds the most fugitive details of that unique
hour. There had not been the slightest shade of frivolity in Francesca's
conduct. It was noble, large, and without any second thought. This
magnanimity struck Rodolphe greatly, for in it he recognized the
difference between the Italian and the Frenchwoman. The waters, the
land, the sky, the woman, all were grandiose and suave, even their love