of my manhood
rests in the fact that I love you.

_Nita._--Faith! so in some others. 'Tis the common fault of the
gallants, I find. If that is all--

_Martino._--But I will always love you, even unto death.

_Nita._--I doubt it not, so death come soon enough.

_Martino._ (_Taps his poiniard with his hand._)--Would you
have it come now, and so prove me true to my word?

_Nita._ (_Demurely_).--I am no judge, to utter the doom that
your presumption merits.

_Martino._--Your looks speak doom, and your sweet lips hide a
sword keener than that of justice.

_Nita._--Have you tried them, signior, that you speak so
knowingly concerning them? (_Retreating._) Your words,
methinks, are somewhat like your kisses, all breath and no
substance.

_Martino._--Lady! sweet one! (_Follows her._)

_Nita._--Nay, I am gone. (_Exit._)

_Martino._--I were of the fools' fold, did I fail to follow at
a beck so gentle. (_Exit._)

That was not all, but it was all that Mr. Sylvester heard. Hastily
retreating, he went out into the corridor and ere long found himself in
the conservatory. He felt shaken; felt that he could not face all this
unmoved. He knew he had been gazing at a play; that because this
Florentine maiden looked at her lover with coyness, gentleness,
tenderness perhaps, it did not follow that she, his Paula, loved the
real man behind this dashing cavalier. But the possibility was there,
and in his present frame of mind could not be encountered without pain.
He dared not stay where men's eyes could follow him, or women's delicate
glances note the heaving of his chest. He had in the last three hours
given himself over so completely to hope. He realized it now though he
would not have believed it before. With man's usual egotism he had felt
that it was only necessary for him to come to a decision, to behold all
else fall out according to his mind. He had forgotten for the nonce the
power of a youthful lover, eager to serve, ready to wait, careful to
press his way at every advantage. He could have cursed himself for the
folly of his delay, as he strode up and down among the flowering shrubs
in the solitude which the attractions of the play created. "Fool! fool!"
he muttered between his teeth, "to halt on the threshold of Paradise
till the door closed in my face, when a step would have carried me
where--" He grew dizzy as he contempla