"Thou wilt not have my love, 'Tite Poulette?"
No answer.
"Thou wilt not, beautiful?"
"Cannot!" was all that she could utter, and upon their clasped hands the
tears ran down.
"Thou wrong'st me, 'Tite Poulette. Thou dost not trust me; thou fearest
the kiss may loosen the hands. But I tell thee nay. I have struggled
hard, even to this hour, against Love, but I yield me now; I yield; I am
his unconditioned prisoner forever. God forbid that I ask aught but that
you will be my wife."
Still the maiden moved not, looked not up, only rained down tears.
"Shall it not be, 'Tite Poulette?" He tried in vain to draw her.
"'Tite Poulette?" So tenderly he called! And then she spoke.
"It is against the law."
"It is not!" cried Zalli, seizing her round the waist and dragging her
forward. "Take her! she is thine. I have robbed God long enough. Here
are the sworn papers--here! Take her; she is as white as snow--so! Take
her, kiss her; Mary be praised! I never had a child--she is the
Spaniard's daughter!"
'SIEUR GEORGE.
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