power, and the dress excelled her expectation. Cheerfully she made her toilet, and, by the help of the talisman, arrived, unperceived by any mortal eyes, where she was so anxiously expected. She was much more charming than the preceding day, and when the knight perceived her, his heart leaped for joy, and a power as irresistible as the gravitation of the earth impelled him towards her, through the vortex of dancers, there to stammer out his feelings. His heart beat, and his limbs shook; for he had already given up all hopes of again seeing the maiden. To recover himself again, and to hide his confusion, he asked her to dance, and all parties drew aside to look at this noble pair. The beautiful unknown floated delightfully round on the arm of the agile knight, as the goddess of flowers in spring, borne on the wings of the zephyr.
At the conclusion of the dance Count Conrad at last led the tired dancer, under pretext of seeking refreshment, into a side apartment; told her, in the language of a fine courtier, how charming he had found the previous day; but imperceptibly the cold court language changed into the language of the heart, and he ended with a declaration of love, as tender and sincere as a wooer is accustomed to use who seeks a bride. The maiden listened to the knight with bashful joy, and after her beating heart and glowing cheeks had plainly manifested her feelings, and a declaration of her sentiments was demanded, she said very modestly, “What you have told me, noble knight, both yesterday and to-day, of your tender love, pleases me well, for I cannot believe that you are talking to me with deceitful words; but how am I to share your married love, since you are a knight of Malta and have taken a vow to remain in singleness all your life? If your meaning were only mischief and gallantry, you have spoken all your smooth words to the winds; therefore, explain the riddle, and tell me how you can arrange it so that we may be wedded according to the rules of holy Church, and our union be indissoluble before God and man?” The knight answered earnestly and honourably, “You speak like a prudent and virtuous maiden, and I will, therefore, to your honest question give a candid answer, and free you from your doubts. At the time when I was admitted into the order of the Cross, my brother William, the heir of the family, was still alive; but since his death, I have obtained a dispensation, as the last of my race, to be married, and to renounce the order, when it pleases me. But love for woman had never fettered my heart until the day I saw you. From that moment I was convinced that you, and no other, was destined by Heaven to become my wife. If you refuse me not your hand, nothing but death shall ever sever us.”—“Reflect well,” answered Matilda, “that you do not afterwards repent; acting first and reflecting afterwards has brought much mischief into the world. You know not whether I am worthy of you, nor of
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