He no longer thirsted after the discovery of the grand elixir: the
dream of alchymy was over; for, without Inez, what was the value of
the philosopher's stone?
He rose, after a sleepless night, with the determination of taking his
leave of the alchymist, and tearing himself from Granada. For several
days did he rise with the same resolution, and every night saw him
come back to his pillow, to repine at his want of resolution, and to
make fresh determinations for the morrow. In the meanwhile, he saw
less of Inez than ever. She no longer walked in the garden, but
remained almost entirely in her apartment. When she met him, she
blushed more than usual; and once hesitated, as if she would have
spoken; but, after a temporary embarrassment, and still deeper
blushes, she made some casual observation, and retired. Antonio read,
in this confusion, a consciousness of fault, and of that fault's being
discovered. "What could she have wished to communicate? Perhaps to
account for the scene in the garden;--but how can she account for it,
or why should she account for it to me? What am I to her?--or rather,
what is she to me?" exclaimed he, impatiently, with a new resolution
to break through these entanglements of the heart, and fly from this
enchanted spot for ever.
Pages:
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229