“Oh, Valentine, he asks if I love him. Valentine, tell him if you love Maximilian.”

The count felt his heart dilate and throb; he opened his arms, and Haydée, uttering a cry, sprang into them.

“Oh, yes,” she cried, “I do love you! I love you as one loves a father, brother, husband! I love you as my life, for you are the best, the noblest of created beings!”

“Let it be, then, as you wish, sweet angel; God has sustained me in my struggle with my enemies, and has given me this reward; he will not let me end my triumph in suffering; I wished to punish myself, but he has pardoned me. Love me then, Haydée! Who knows? perhaps your love will make me forget all that I do not wish to remember.”

“What do you mean, my lord?”