Never had Don
Rodrigo found her more desirable; never had he felt so secure and
glad in his possession of her. The quickening blood flushing now
his olive face, he gathered her slim shapeliness into his arms,
kissing her cheek, her lips, her neck.
"My pearl, my beautiful, my wife!" he murmured, rapturously. Then
added the impatient question: "The priest? Where is the priest
that shall make us one?"
Deep, unfathomable eyes looked up to meet his burning glance.
Languorously she lay against his breast, and her red lips parted
in a smile that maddened him.
"You love me, Rodrigo--in spite of all?"
"Love you!" It was a throbbing, strangled cry, an almost
inarticulate ejaculation. "Better than life--better than
salvation."
She fetched a sigh, as of deep content, and nestled closer. "Oh,
I am glad--so glad--that your love for me is truly strong. I am
about to put it to the test, perhaps."
He held her very close. "What is this test, beloved?"
"It is that I want this marriage knot so tied that it shall be
indissoluble save by death."
"Why, so do I," quoth he, who had so much to gain.
"And, therefore, because after all, though I profess
Christianity, there is Jewish blood in my veins, I would have a
marriage that must satisfy even my father when he regains his
freedom, as I believe he will--for, after all, he is not charged
with any sin against the faith.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91