"No," said she, "I should everywhere long to be back in my garden.
Nowhere is it so beautiful as here. Leave me my paradise--why would you
drive me from it?"
"Alas!" despairingly exclaimed Carlo, "you call yourself happy and
satisfied; why, then, are you so sad?"
"Am I sad?" she asked, with surprise. "No, Carlo, I am not sad! I
sometimes dream, nothing more! Let me yet dream!"
"You will die," thought Carlo, and with an effort he forced back the cry
of despair that pressed to his lips; but his cheeks paled, and his whole
form trembled.
Seeing it, Natalie shook off her apathy, and with a lively sympathy and
tender friendship she inquired the cause of his disquiet. She was so
near him that her breath fanned his cheek, and her locks touched his
brow.
"Ah, you would kill me, you would craze me!" murmured he, sorrowfully,
sinking down, powerless, at her feet.
She looked wonderingly at him. "Why are you angry with me?" she
innocently said, "and what have I done, that you so wrongfully accuse
me?"
"What have you done?" cried he, beside himself,--the moment had overcome
him, this moment had burst the bands with which he had bound his heart,
and in unfettered freedom, in glowing passion, his long-concealed secret
forced its way to his lips.
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