"Reserve, Don Carlos? How can that be?"
"Exactly as I told you. I am young in years, Elmira, but I have ceased to be young in love. If adoring you, does not entitle me to your confidence, will you deny it to my friendship?—You are mute? You weep? O speak to me—Carlos is wholly yours!"
"Do you fancy, Sir," replied she somewhat offended, "that I have secrets to discover to you? I assure you, I am not at all prepared for it."
"Elmira, you misunderstand me—I did not mean to offend you."
"I believe you—all you wanted was a little more ingenuity to mask your curiosity."
"I confess my intrusion, and crave your pardon. Let us drop the subject—pray what master made this guitar?"
At these words she stared wildly—tears again bedewed her lovely cheeks—and her swelling bosom heaved a long alas!
"I plainly see," continued I, "my presence is too much for you. Your forgiveness, Madonna-adieu!"
