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.His ship arrived this morning, and anchors in the bay.The sailors say that they are to beprepared to sail with the first wind; they were taking in fresh stores.They--""Leave me, Gionetta! Leave me!"The time had already passed when the girl could confide in Gionetta.Her thoughts had advanced tothat point when the heart recoils from all confidence, and feels that it cannot be comprehended.Alone now, in the principal apartment of the house, she paced its narrow boundaries with tremulousand agitated steps: she recalled the frightful suit of Nicot,--the injurious taunt of Glyndon; and shesickened at the remembrance of the hollow applauses which, bestowed on the actress, not thewoman, only subjected her to contumely and insult.In that room the recollection of her father'sdeath, the withered laurel and the broken chords, rose chillingly before her.Hers, she felt, was a yetgloomier fate,--the chords may break while the laurel is yet green.The lamp, waning in its socket,burned pale and dim, and her eyes instinctively turned from the darker corner of the room.Orphan,by the hearth of thy parent, dost thou fear the presence of the dead!And was Zanoni indeed about to quit Naples? Should she see him no more? Oh, fool, to think thatthere was grief in any other thought! The past!--that was gone! The future!--there was no future toher, Zanoni absent! But this was the night of the third day on which Zanoni had told her that, comewhat might, he would visit her again.It was, then, if she might believe him, some appointed crisis inher fate; and how should she tell him of Glyndon's hateful words? The pure and the proud mind cannever confide its wrongs to another, only its triumphs and its happiness.But at that late hour wouldZanoni visit her,--could she receive him? Midnight was at hand.Still in undefined suspense, inintense anxiety, she lingered in the room.The quarter before midnight sounded, dull and distant.Allwas still, and she was about to pass to her sleeping-room, when she heard the hoofs of a horse atfull speed; the sound ceased, there was a knock at the door.Her heart beat violently; but fear gaveway to another sentiment when she heard a voice, too well known, calling on her name.Shepaused, and then, with the fearlessness of innocence, descended and unbarred the door.Zanoni entered with a light and hasty step.His horseman's cloak fitted tightly to his noble form, andhis broad hat threw a gloomy shade over his commanding features.The girl followed him into the room she had just left, trembling and blushing deeply, and stoodbefore him with the lamp she held shining upward on her cheek and the long hair that fell like ashower 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 wouldhave made the charge I now undertake another's; thou knowest I would,--thou knowest it!--but he isnot 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 hisbright, 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 tothee; 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 pale, and shrinking from his side; "leave me,--I fearno danger.My life, and therefore my honour, is in mine own hands.""Be not so mad," said Zanoni."Hark! do you hear the neigh of my steed?--it is an alarm that warnsus of the approaching peril.Haste, or you are lost!""Why dost thou care for me?" said the girl, bitterly."Thou hast read my heart; thou knowest thatthou art become the lord of my destiny.But to be bound beneath the weight of a cold obligation; tobe the beggar on the eyes of indifference; to cast myself on one who loves me not,--THAT wereindeed the vilest sin of my sex.Ah, Zanoni, rather let me die!"She had thrown back her clustering hair from her face while she spoke; and as she now stood, withher arms drooping mournfully, and her hands clasped together with the proud bitterness of herwayward spirit, giving new zest and charm to her singular beauty, it was impossible to conceive asight more irresistible to the eye and the heart."Tempt me not to thine own danger,--perhaps destruction!" exclaimed Zanoni, in faltering accents."Thou canst not dream of what thou wouldst demand,--come!" and, advancing, he wound his armround her waist."Come, Viola; believe at least in my friendship, my honour, my protection--""And not thy love," said the Italian, turning on him her reproachful eyes.Those eyes met his, and hecould not withdraw from the charm of their gaze
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