The girl followed him into the room she had just left, trembling and blushing deeply, and stood before him with the lamp she held shining upward on her cheek and the long hair that fell like a shower of light over the half-clad shoulders and heaving bust.
"Viola," said Zanoni, in a voice that spoke deep emotion, "I am by thy side once more to save thee. Not a moment is to be lost. Thou must fly with me, or remain the victim of the Prince di———. I would have made the charge I now undertake another's; thou knowest I would—thou knowest it!—but he is not worthy of thee, the cold Englishman! I throw myself at thy feet; have trust in me, and fly."
He grasped her hand passionately as he dropped on his knee, and looked up into her face with his bright beseeching eyes.
"Fly with thee!" said Viola, scarce believing her senses.
"With me. Name, fame, honour—all will be sacrificed if thou dost not."
"Then—then," said the wild girl, falteringly, and turning aside her face—"then I am not indifferent to thee?—thou wouldst not give me to another?"
Zanoni was silent; but his breast heaved, his cheeks flushed, his eyes darted dark and impassioned fire.
"Speak|" exclaimed Viola, in jealous suspicion of his silence.
"Indifferent to me! No; but I dare not yet say that I love thee."
"Then what matters my fate?" said Viola, turning
