"No, I am not weary. I will hear anything you wish to say." And Agatha
having withdrawn her hand, sat down, and again found herself in a
position to take advantage of Marie's good advice.
Adolphe remained silent for a minute or two, with his head supported on
his hand, and gazing on the lady of his love with a look that was
intended to fascinate her. Agatha sat perfectly still; she was evidently
mindful of the lesson she had received: at last, Adolphe started up from
his position, walked a step or two into the middle of the room, thrust
his right hand into his bosom; and said abruptly, "Agatha, this is
child's play; we are deceiving each other; we are deceiving ourselves;
we would appear to be calm when there is no calm within us."
"Do not say we. I am not deceiving myself; I trust I am not deceiving
you."
"And is your heart really so tranquil?" said he. "Does that fair bosom
control no emotion? Is that lovely face, so exquisitely pale, a true
index of the spirit within? Oh! Agatha! it cannot be; while my own heart
is so torn with love; while I feel my own pulses beat so strongly; while
my own brain burns so fiercely, I cannot believe that your bosom is a
stranger to all emotion! Some passion akin to humanity must make you
feel that you are not all divine! Speak, Agatha; if that lovely form has
within it ought that partakes of the weakness of a woman, tell me, that
at some future time you will accept the love I offer you; tell me, that
I may live in hope.
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