"Alas, dearest!" she said, "think of our great poverty, and how difficult it was for me to discover myself. I loved you; but was it not natural that I should suppose your inclination for me only a passing caprice?"
She looked at me with eyes still wet, but her voice had steadied.
"When I saw you go so easily from Cecilia to Marinetta, I thought that you would treat me in the same manner as soon as your desires were satisfied, I was likewise confirmed in my opinion of your want of constancy and of the little importance you attached to the delicacy of the sentiment of love, when I witnessed what you did on board the Turkish vessel without being hindered by my presence; had you loved me, I thought my being present would have made you uncomfortable."
I could not answer at once. She had judged me severely, but not unjustly.
"I feared to be soon despised. God knows how much I suffered!"
She pressed my hand, as if to soften the reproach.
"You insulted me, darling, in many different ways. But my heart pleaded in your favour. I knew you were excited, angry and thirsting for revenge."
Her eyes met mine.
"But do not fancy that I gave myself to you out of fear. No, I had made up my mind to be yours from the moment you sent me word by Cecilia that you would take me to Rimini, and your control over your own feelings during a part of our journey confirmed me in my resolution, for I thought I could trust myself to your honour, to your delicacy."
Her speech touched me deeply. She had seen my faults clearly and loved me in spite of them.
"Throw up," I said, "the engagement you have in Rimini; let us proceed on our journey, and, after remaining a couple of days in Bologna, you will go with me to Venice; dressed as a woman, and with another name, I would challenge the manager here to find you out."
"I accept. Your will shall always be my law. I am my own mistress, and I give myself to you without any reserve or restriction; my heart belongs to you, and I trust to keep yours."
Man has in himself a moral force of action which always makes him overstep the line on which he is standing. I had obtained everything, I wanted more.
"Show me," I said, "how you were when I mistook you for a man."
She smiled, then rose from the bed and opened her trunk. From it she took the little instrument which had deceived me so cruelly. With practised fingers she fixed it as Salimberi had taught her.
I watched in silence.
The contrivance was ingenious enough to excuse my error, and hateful enough to make me pity her.
My curiosity was satisfied, and I passed a most delightful night in her arms.
When I woke in the morning, Therese was still asleep.
The light fell softly across her face. Without Bellino's name, without the borrowed clothes, without fear keeping watch over every gesture, she seemed lovelier and more peaceful. I looked at her for a long time.
Everything she had told me returned to my mind. Her rare talent, her candour, her feelings so full of delicacy, the strange courage with which she had lived under a false character, the humiliations she had endured, the shame to which that disguise exposed her …
Everything strengthened my resolution to make her the companion of my destiny, whatever it might be, or to follow her fate.
Our situations were not so different. She had lived behind a mask imposed by necessity; I had been driven from place to place by my own follies, my poverty, and the uncertain favour of fortune.
She had her voice; I had my wits. Neither of us possessed much else, except youth, hope, and the dangerous habit of trusting tomorrow.
As I watched her sleep, I determined to give to our union the sanction of religion and of law, and to take her legally for my wife.
Such a step, as I then thought, could but strengthen our love, increase our mutual esteem, and insure the approbation of society which could not accept our union unless it was sanctioned in the usual manner.
Therese's talents removed any fear of hunger. With her voice, she could always earn what was necessary. As for myself, I did not yet know what use the world would make of me, but I had faith in myself.
But such a plan has its own drawbacks.
I could not consent to live by Therese's earnings alone. Had I done so, our love might soon have changed its nature.
My wife, no longer thinking herself under any obligation to me, might have fancied herself the protecting, instead of the protected party.
Perhaps she would never have had such a thought; perhaps I wronged her by imagining it. But I knew myself.
I felt that my love would soon have turned into utter contempt, if it had been my misfortune to find her harbouring such thoughts.
Although I trusted that such bitterness would never rise between us, I wanted, before taking the grave step of marriage, to probe her heart, and I resolved to try an experiment which would at once enable me to judge the real feelings of her inmost soul.
As soon as Therese woke, I took her hand.
"Dearest Therese," I said, "all you have told me leaves me no doubt of your love for me, and the consciousness you feel of being the mistress of my heart enhances my love for you to such a degree, that I am ready to do everything to convince you that you were not mistaken in thinking that you had entirely conquered me."
She looked at me without speaking.
"I wish to prove to you," I continued, "that I am worthy of the noble confidence you have reposed in me by trusting you with equal sincerity. Our hearts must be on a footing of perfect equality. I know you, my dearest Therese, but you do not know me yet."
She smiled faintly and shook her head.
"I can read in your eyes that you do not mind it, and it proves our great love, but that feeling places me too much below you, and I do not wish you to have so great an advantage over me.
"I feel certain that my confidence is not necessary to your love; that you only care to be mine, that your only wish is to possess my heart, and I admire you, my Therese; but I should feel humiliated if I found myself either too much above or too much below you.
"You have entrusted your secrets to me, now listen to mine; but before I begin, promise me that, when you know everything that concerns me, you will tell me candidly if any change has taken place either in your feelings or in your hopes."
She raised herself on one elbow and studied my face.
"I promise it faithfully; I promise not to conceal anything from you," she said. "But be upright enough not to tell me anything that is not perfectly true, for I warn you that it would be useless. If you tried any artifice in order to find me less worthy of you than I am in reality, you would only succeed in lowering yourself in my estimation.
"I should be very sorry to see you guilty of any cunning towards me. Have no more suspicion of me than I have of you; tell me the whole truth."
"Here it is," I said. "You suppose me wealthy, and I am not so; as soon as what there is now in my purse is spent I shall have nothing left.
"You may fancy that I was born a patrician, but my social condition is really inferior to your own. I have no lucrative talents, no profession, nothing to give me the assurance that I am able to earn my living. I have neither relatives nor friends, nor claims upon anyone, and I have no serious plan or purpose before me.
"All I possess is youth, health, courage, some intelligence, honour, honesty, and some tincture of letters. My greatest treasure consists in being my own master, perfectly independent, and not afraid of misfortune. With all that, I am naturally inclined to extravagance.
"Lovely Therese, you have my portrait. What is your answer?"
She had listened without lowering her eyes. When I finished, she smiled with an expression I had not expected. It was not disappointment. It was relief.
"In the first place, dearest," she said, "let me assure you that I believe every word you have just uttered, as I would believe in the Gospel.
"In the second, allow me to tell you that several times in Ancona I have judged you such as you have just described yourself, but far from being displeased at such a knowledge of your nature, I was only afraid of some illusion on my part, for I could hope to win you if you were what I thought you to be.
"In one word, dear one, if it is true that you are poor and a very bad hand at economy, allow me to tell you that I feel delighted, because, if you love me, you will not refuse a present from me, or despise me for offering it."
She lowered her eyes and smiled gently,
"The present consists of myself, such as I am, and with all my faculties. I give myself to you without any condition, with no restriction; I am yours, I will take care of you.
"For the future think only of your love for me, but love me exclusively. From this moment I am no longer Bellino. Let us go to Venice, where my talent will keep us both comfortably; if you wish to go anywhere else, let us go where you please."
"I must go to Constantinople," I said.
"Then let us go to Constantinople," she said.
I looked at her.
"You would follow me there?"
"I would follow you anywhere. And if you are afraid to lose me through want of constancy, marry me, and your right over me will be strengthened by law."
"You would be happy as my wife?"
"I should not love you better than I do now," she said, "but I should be happy to be your wife."
"It is my intention to marry you," I said. "and I am delighted that we agree in that respect. The day after to-morrow, in Bologna, you shall be made my legal-wife before the altar of God; I swear it to you here in the presence of Love. I want you to be mine, I want to be yours, I want us to be united by the most holy ties."
She threw her arms around me.
"I am the happiest of women!"
For a moment she remained still against my breast, then she lifted her head and smiled.
"We have nothing to do in Rimini; suppose we do not get up; we can have our dinner in bed, and go away to-morrow well rested after our fatigues."
We left the next day and stopped at Pesaro for breakfast. We had just returned to the carriage when an officer approached with two soldiers and presented himself.
He then enquired, "Can you give me your names and passports?"
Therese, still travelling as Bellino, gave hers at once.
I searched my pockets.
Nothing.
I searched again, more slowly.
The officer watched me.
"My passport is not here," I said.
"You have lost it?"
"So it appears."
He ordered the postilion to wait and went away to make his report. Therese looked at me with alarm.
"Do not be frightened," I said. "It is a foolish accident."
Half an hour later the officer returned. He handed Therese her passport.
"You may continue your journey," he said to her.
Then he turned to me.
"You will come with me. I have orders to take you to the commanding officer."
Therese grew pale.
"I will follow him," I said. "Wait for me."
I followed the corporal through the street, affecting more calm than I possessed.
The commanding officer received me coldly.
"What have you done with your passport?"
"I have lost it."
"A passport is not so easily lost."
"Well, I have lost mine."
He did not smile.
"You cannot proceed any further."
"I come from Rome, and I am going to Constantinople, bearing a letter from Cardinal Acquaviva. Here is the letter stamped with his seal."
He examined the letter, then me.
"All I can do for you is send you to M. de Gages."