strange, my thoughts unreasonable, tell it me, love! We will seek and
find some better means, to reconcile that we owe to heaven, with what
we owe to the world and to ourselves. It is said, that lovers are beside
themselves," added the young lady, with a smile, "but I think that no
creatures are more reasonable."

"When I hear you speak thus of our happiness," said Djalma, deeply
moved, "with so much calm and earnest tenderness, I think I see a mother
occupied with the future prospects of her darling child--trying
to surround him with all that can make him strong, valiant, and
generous--trying to remove far from him all that is ignoble and
unworthy. You ask me to tell you if your thoughts seem strange to
me, Adrienne. You forget, that what makes my faith in our love, is
my feeling exactly as you do. What offends you, offends me also; what
disgusts you, disgusts me. Just now, when you cited to me the laws of
this country, which respect in a woman not even a mother's right--I
thought with pride of our barbarous countries, where woman, though a
slave, is made free when she becomes a mother. No, no; such laws are not
made either for you or me. Is it not to prove your sacred respect for
our love, to wish to raise it above the shameful servitude that would
degrade it? You see, Adrienne, I have often heard said by the priests of
my country, that there were beings inferior to the gods, but superior
to every other creature. I did not believe those priests; but now I do."
These last words were uttered, not in the tone of flattery, but with
an accent of sincere conviction, and with that sort of passionate
veneration and almost timid fervor, which mark the believer talking of
his faith; but what is impossible to describe, is the ineffable harmony
of these almost religious words, with the mild, deep tone of the
young Oriental's voice--as well as the ardent expression of amorous
melancholy, which gave an irresistible charm to his enchanting features.

Adrienne had listened to Djalma with an indescribable mixture of joy,
gratitude, and pride. Laying her hand on her bosom, as if to keep down
its violent pulsations, she resumed, as she looked at the prince with
delight: "Behold him, ever the same!--just, good, great!--Oh, my heart!
my heart! how proudly it beats. Blessed be God, who created me for this
adored lover! He must mean to astonish the world, by the prodigies of
tenderness and charity, that such a love may produce. They do not