Monte-Cristos Daughter | Page 6

beautiful charmer, and the avowal had not caused her
displeasure; it was, on the contrary, exceedingly agreeable to her and
she did not seek to conceal the fact from her enthusiastic suitor.

The momentous interview took place in a densely shaded alley of the
garden of the Palazzo Costi one sultry afternoon of the early autumn.
The youthful couple were seated very near each other upon a rustic
bench. Massetti held Zuleika's small, soft hand in his and the electric
touch of her tiny and shapely fingers thrilled him as the touch of female
fingers had never thrilled him before. He gazed into the liquid depths of
her dark, glowing eyes and their subtile fire seemed to melt his very
soul. The close, sultry atmosphere, laden with heavy, intoxicating
perfumes, was fraught with a delirious influence well calculated to set
the blood aflame and promote the explosion of pent-up love. The thick,
green foliage enclosed the pair as in a verdant cloud, effectually
concealing them from observation. The opportunity was irresistible.
Giovanni drew closer to his fascinating companion, so closely that her
fragrant breath came full in his face, utterly subjecting him and totally
obliterating all caution, everything save his absorbing passion for the
palpitating girl whose slight, but clear-cut form, gracefully-outlined
beneath her flowing, half-oriental garments, touched his. Suddenly
carried away by a powerful transport, he threw his arm around the
young girl's yielding waist and drew her without resistance upon his
bosom, where she lay, gazing up into his flushed, excited countenance
with an indescribable, voluptuous charm, mingled with thorough
confidence and unhesitating innocence. Panting in his clasp, her ruby
lips partly opened as if for breath, and the ardent Italian hastily,
recklessly imprinted a fiery kiss upon them. Zuleika, with an almost
imperceptible movement, returned this chaste, but ravishing salute.
"Oh! how I love you!" murmured Giovanni, quivering from head to
foot in his wild ecstasy, and clasping the lovely girl still tighter.
She made no verbal response, but did not stir, did not strive to extricate
herself from his warm embrace This was a sufficient answer for the
quick Italian. Zuleika, the beautiful Zuleika, returned his love, favored
his suit. His joy approached delirium.
"Oh! Zuleika," he whispered, gazing directly into her night black eyes,
"you love me, I am sure! Give me the treasures of your virgin heart! Be
mine--be my wife!"

"Oh! Giovanni," returned the quivering girl, in a low, but sweetly
modulated voice, "I do love you--God alone knows how much!--but I
am too young to be your wife! I am only a child, not yet out of school.
My father would not hear of my marrying for several years to come.
Can you not wait?"
"It will be a hard task, Zuleika," answered the young man, excitedly;
"but, still, I will wait if you give me a lover's hope. Promise to marry
me when you are at liberty to do so, nay, swear it, and I shall be
satisfied!"
"I can neither promise nor swear it, Giovanni, without my father's
approval and consent. He is a wise, experienced and thoughtful man,
tender and mild to every one he loves, though hard and implacable to
his enemies. Speak to him of me, of your love, of your wish. He will
listen to you and he will not imperil his daughter's happiness. Go to him
without delay, and rest assured that whatever he says or does will be for
the best interests of us both."
She had released herself from his clasp and drawn slightly away from
him, not in terror, not in prudery, not in coquetry, but as a measure of
prudence. She felt intuitively that the wild, intense passion of her
Italian adorer must be kept within discreet limits.
"I cannot speak to your father yet," replied Giovanni, hesitatingly. "He
might listen to me, it is true; but he would treat our love as a mere
childish fancy that time could not fail to dim, if not obliterate. I am
deeply in earnest, Zuleika, and could not bear to be treated as a
thoughtless, headlong stripling, who did not know his own mind.
Ridicule, even in its mildest form, would fire my blood, fill me with
mad projects of revenge. I prefer not to ask your father for your hand
until certain of a favorable reception of my suit. You comprehend my
scruples, do you not, Zuleika? I love you too dearly not to win you
when I ask!"
"But you will speak to my father?" said the girl, in faltering tones.
"Yes, darling, oh! yes; but not until that hated convent school has

ceased to oppose its barriers between us. When you have left it, when
you have completed the education the Count designs for you, I will
seek your father and ask you