Then they paused to look long and
lovingly into each other's eyes, and de Sigognac began again to pour out
to Isabelle "the old, old story," that she was never weary of hearing,
but found more heavenly sweet at every telling. They were like the first
pair of mortal lovers in Paradise, entirely sufficient to and happy
in each other. Yet even then Isabelle gently checked the passionate
utterances of her faithful suitor, and strove to moderate his rapturous
transports, though their very fervour made her heart rejoice, and
brought a bright flush to her cheeks and a happy light to her eyes that
rendered her more adorably beautiful than ever.
"Whatever you may do or say, my darling," he answered, with a sweet,
tender smile, "you will never be able to tire out my constancy. If need
be, I will wait for you until all your scruples shall have vanished of
themselves--though it be not till these beautiful, soft brown tresses,
with their exquisite tinge of gold where the sun shines on them, shall
have turned to silver."
"Oh!" cried Isabelle, "I shall be so old and so ugly then that even
your sublime courage will be daunted, and I fear that in rewarding
your perseverance and fidelity by the gift of myself I should only be
punishing my devoted knight and brave champion.
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