The lady talked of him--of his tastes--of his pleasures. There was not an
incident in his life, or of his family, that she had not fathomed by now.
All about Isabella even--poor Isabella! And she told him how she
sympathised with the girl, and how badly he had behaved.
"Another proof, my Paul, of what I said today--no one must make vows about
love."
But Paul, in his heart, believed her not. He would worship her for ever,
he knew.
"Yes," she said, answering his thoughts. "You think so, beloved, and it
may be so because you do not know from moment to moment how I shall be--if
I shall stay here in your arms, or fly far away beyond your reach. You
love me because I give you the stimulus of uncertainty, and so keep bright
your passion, but once you were sure, I should become a duty, as all women
become, and then my Paul would yawn and grow to see I was no longer young,
and that the expected is always an _ennui_ when it comes!"
"Never, never!" said Paul, with fervour.
Presently their conversation drifted to other things, and Paul told her
how he longed to see the world and its people and its ways. She had been
almost everywhere, it seemed, and with her talent of word-painting, she
took him with her on the magic carpet of her vivid description to east and
west and north and south.
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