"O could I but bend your stubbornness," continued she, "but I despair of it.—Hear then, Don Carlos, my secret—but first tell me, is your heart free still?"
"My heart free still?" replied I with melting accents: "who could ask such a question with less reason than Elmira? Have not you read in my eyes—in my language—that it doats on you? Be not cruel, but for one property lost return me another!"
"There—there—you mistake me again, It is not love I want; but only a little pity, a little sympathy. I wish to devote you to my interest. You are a frank and generous young man, who always felt friendship enough, not to deny me his assistance."
"You may rely on it, Madam; but you speak so problematically—I love plain-dealing!"
"Then learn the great secret: Carlos! I do love—" here she modestly fixed her eyes on the ground, and hid her face in her handkerchief, as if she wanted to conceal the rising blush.
