“My love, my true and best—­my only love!  I cannot lose you, Paolina; I cannot give you up.  Truly—­truly I had rather that any other thing—­any other evil that could happen, should happen to me.  We are, and we must be, all in all to each other, my Paolina, now and ever.  There is no alternative possibility to this.  Love has opened my eyes, too, my darling angel!  Your love has opened my eyes; I will know no other love,—­no other woman—­call none other wife but you!  Paolina, you will be mine?—­my all? my only one?”

“Ludovico!” she exclaimed, looking up at him with an ecstasy of joy, and yet with a great terror upon her face; “but what will happen—­ what will happen to you?  What will be done to me?”

“We must see, my heart’s treasure!  We must have patience; you must trust to me.  You do trust me, non e vero?  I must put off this marriage; then find means to break it.  And, after all, what can my uncle do?  I am dependent on him while he lives; but I must succeed to all he has when he dies.  My promised wife!  Are you mine—­mine for ever?  Will you now put your dear little hand in mine, and promise me, and have faith in me, and wait for me, and have patience till I can see my way, and love me all the time, my own—­my darling?”

“I am your own, Ludovico;—­yours, any way:  to live for you, if such a lot may be mine; to die still yours, if it may not!  Wait!  Patience!  What shall tire my patience?  So I know that you are loving me—­me only—­all the time, I shall ask nothing more!  But, oh, I am so frightened!  And then I shall be a cause of such mischief and trouble to you.  Would it not have been better for you if you had never seen poor Paolina?”

“No, no, no, no!  It would have been a thousand million times worse for me!  Be of good heart, my treasure; nothing can hurt you.  We must keep our secret for a while; and nothing will hurt me, if we manage well.  But I must think; my mind is in a confusion;—­a joyful confusion, dearest!  But I must think it all over.  If you see me less often, be sure that it is because I am planning for our happiness.  And now, darling,—­my own, my own, now really and for ever, my own—­ one kiss to seal our contract!  You won’t refuse me that.  I take you thus in my arms, my Paolina; for the first time as your promised husband.  Good-night—­good-night—­my own!  I trust I may be able to think of what I am doing at the Palazzo tonight.  Good-night, my own!”

And thus the Marchese Ludovico returned that evening to the Palazzo Castelmare, about an hour after Signor Ercole Stadione had quitted it; pledged to find some means of breaking off the match with the Contessa Violante Marliani, to which all Ravenna was looking forward, and engaged to be married to the little obscure Venetian orphan artist.

CHAPTER IX

Uncle and Nephew