72 T11L WATtll-TOW'Kk OF If.OAT-VEU. 



Rita threw her arms around his neck. 4< Thus art thou beautiful, 

 my Henry. This expression of manhood seems nature on thy brow. 

 That boldness which flashes in thy look is incense to my heart. Should 

 I not love it, Henry '? Is it not all my work ? Are not all those thoughts 

 of glory mine ? Have they not sprung from out of thy love for me ? 

 This fire which awakes thee, thou hast drunk it from my lips. In 

 truth," she exclaimed, almost bursting into tears, " I love thee ; I love 

 thee with ail the jealous tenderness, with all the egoism and pride 

 with which a mother loves her child. I seek with avidity in thy new 

 feelings, to which I have given birth, traces of myself, as a fond mother 

 seeks her own features in the son whom she adores. Thus, Henry, 

 thou owest me more than love ; thou must love me as a mistress and 

 a mother. I would not have thee please other women. But what 

 fear have I ? Thy pallid face, thy melancholy look, will but repulse 

 them ; for this paleness, this melancholy can but please me." 



" I have often thought, Rita," said Henry with a serious air, " and 

 this thought has often cost me bitter care, the quiet life of a recluse is 

 no longer possible to me ; my life is now thy love ; I live for thee 

 alone, and thou alone canst love me. Shouldst thou then change, 

 Rita, shouldst thou cease to love rne, what then would life have 

 left for me ? This life, to-day so beautiful, so smiling, this future 

 prospect which thy love enriches with fame and glory shouldst 

 thou deceive me, Rita." 



" Hear me, Henry," interrupted Rita, with singular excitement, 

 44 this fear did not reach me; for, judging thee by myself, I said, 

 1 Should he betray me he should not live ;' " then, after a moment's 

 pause, she continued, "thou wouldst not slay me, Henry, were I to 

 change ?'' 



" Yes, yes/' cried Henry, with warmth," and wherefore not?'' said 

 he, with a bitter smile, "thou hast already forced me to renounce 

 the prospect of my life, why should I not be an assassin also? And 

 then think, when enclosed in the arms of another, how wouldst 

 thou laugh, laugh at the credulous child who, on the faith of a wo- 

 man's love, has given to the winds his purity, his faith, has broken 

 the holiest vows. No, no, Rita, thou hast well guessed I would 

 slay thee." 



"What love, what joy, what happiness!'' exclaimed the duchess, 

 eagerly embracing him, but suddenly starting back, then raising her- 

 self to her full height, and assuming a commanding and noble gesture, 

 stretched her hand towards him. 



" In three days, Henry, thou shall know me fully." " What mean- 

 est thou, Rita?'' answered he. "In three days, Henry.'' "Three 

 days without seeing thee !" " It must be so," said the duchess, hut 

 then thou shalt no longer doubt me, and I will ask of thee but one 

 single word, one single oath to quit this tower, and to renounce for 

 ever the vocation which has been imposed upon thee." 



" In three days," repeated Henry, with a thoughtful air, " in three 

 days! 1 agree ; but it must be night at midnight I' 1 



"At midnight! Why?" 



44 At midnight, Rita, I pray thee. Besides, an oath at night, by 

 the feeble light of the stars, in the deep silence of night, broken only 



