"Has your resolution changed, Valentine?"
"It cannot change, unhappy man! you know it must not!" cried the young girl.
"Then adieu, Valentine!"
Valentine shook the gate with a strength of which she could not have been supposed to be possessed, as Morrel was going away, and passing both her hands through the opening, she clasped and wrung them. "I must know what you mean to do!" said she. "Where are you going!"
"Oh! fear not," said Maximilian, stopping at a short distance, "I do not intend to render another man responsible for the rigorous fate reserved for me. Another might threaten to seek M. Franz, to provoke him, and to fight with him; all that would be folly. What has M. Franz to do with it? He saw me this morning for the first time, and has already forgotten he has seen me. He did not even know I existed when it was arranged by your two families that you should be united. I have nothing against M. Franz, and promise you I shall not blame him."
"Whom, then? Me?"
"You, Valentine! Oh, Heaven forbid! Woman is sacred, the woman one loves is holy."
"On yourself, then, unhappy man; on yourself?"
"I am the only guilty person, am I not?" said Maximilian.
"Maximilian!" said Valentine, "Maximilian, return, I entreat you!" He drew near, with his sweet smile, and, but for his paleness, one might have thought him in his usual happy frame.
"Listen, my dear, my adored Valentine," said he in his melodious and grave tone; "those who, like us, have never had a thought for which we need blush before the world or before God, such may read each other's heart like open books. I never was romantic, and am no melancholy hero. I imitate neither Manfred nor Anthony; but without words, without protestations and without vows, I have staked my life on you; you leave me, and you are right in doing so,—I repeat it, you are right; but in losing you, I lose my life. The moment you leave me, Valentine, I am alone in the world. My sister is happily married; her husband is only my brother-in-law, that is, a man whom the ties of social life alone attach to me; no one on earth, then, longer needs my useless life. Tins is what I shall do; I will wait until the very moment you are married, for I will not lose the shadow of one of those unexpected chances which are sometimes reserved for us, for, after all, M. Franz may die before that time; a thunderbolt may fall even on the altar as you approach it; nothing appears impossible to one condemned to die, and miracles appear quite reasonable when his escape from death is concerned. I
