e before the return of the
too happy captain. He knows all, for I have told him what I feel."

"And what did he answer?"

"That he would be happy to see you under my protection. But what is the
meaning of that smile playing on your lips?"

"Pray, allow me to laugh, for I have never in my life realized the idea
of a furious declaration of love. Do you understand what it is to say to
a woman in a declaration which ought to be passionate, but at the same
time tender and gentle, the following terrible words:

"'Madam, make your choice, either one or the other, and decide
instanter!' Ha! ha! ha!"

"Yes, I understand perfectly. It is neither gentle, nor gallant, nor
pathetic, but it is passionate. Remember that this is a serious matter,
and that I have never yet found myself so much pressed by time. Can you,
on your side, realize the painful position of a man, who, being deeply in
love, finds himself compelled to take a decision which may perhaps decide
issues of life and death? Be good enough to remark that, in spite of the
passion raging in me, I do not fail in the respect I owe you; that the
resolution I intend to take, if you should persist in your original
decision, is not a threat, but an effort worthy of a hero, which ought to
call for your esteem. I beg of you to consider that we cannot afford to
lose time. The word choose must not sound harshly in your ears, since it
leaves my fate as well as yours entirely in your hands. To feel certain
of my love, do you want to see me kneeling before you like a simpleton,
crying and entreating you to take pity on me? No, madam, that would
certainly displease you, and it would not help me. I am conscious of
being worthy of your love, I therefore ask for that feeling and not for
pity. Leave me, if I displease you, but let me go away; for if you are
humane enough to wish that I should forget you, allow me to go far away
from you so as to make my sorrow less immense. Should I follow you to
Parma, I would not answer for myself, for I might give way to my despair.
Consider everything well, I beseech you; you would indeed be guilty of
great cruelty, were you to answer now: 'Come to Parma, although I must
beg of you not to see me in that city.' Confess that you cannot, in all
fairness, give me such an answer; am I not right?"

"Certainly, if you truly love me."

"Good God! if I love you? Oh, yes! believe me, my love is immense,
sincere! Now, decide my fate."

"What! always the sa