human
Isabel, said the Englishman, drawing her again to the bench from which she had risen, and seating himself beside her,
gpt
Signor, whoever wastes his thoughts on an actress must submit to have rivals. It is our unhappy destiny not to be sacred even to ourselves.
human
But you have told me, Isabel, that you do not love this destiny, glittering though it seem,--that your heart is not in the vocation which your talents adorn.
gpt
Ah, no! said the actress, her eyes filling with tears,
human
Fly then with me, said the artist, passionately.
gpt
Quit forever the calling that divides that heart I would have all my own. Share my fate now and forever,--my pride, my delight, my ideal! Thou shalt inspire my canvas and my song, thy beauty shall be made at once holy and renowned. In the galleries of princes crowds shall gather round the effigy of a Venus or a saint, and a whisper shall break forth, 'It is Isabel di Pisani!' Ah! Isabel, I adore thee: tell me that I do not worship in vain.
human
Thou art good and fair, said Isabel, gazing on her lover as he pressed his cheek nearer to hers, and clasped her hand in his.
gpt
But what should I give thee in return?
human
Love, love; only love!
gpt
A sister's love?
human
Ah, speak not with such cruel coldness!
gpt
It is all I have for thee. Listen to me, signor. When I look on your face, when I hear your voice, a certain serene and tranquil calm creeps over and lulls thoughts, oh, how feverish, how wild! When thou art gone, the day seems a shade more dark; but the shadow soon flies. I miss thee not, I think not of thee,--no, I love thee not; and I will give myself only where I love.
human
But I would teach thee to love me,--fear it not. Nay, such love as thou now describest in our tranquil climates is the love of innocence and youth.
gpt
And it is the innocence he would destroy,
human
No, it may not be! she said, rising, and extricating her hand gently from his grasp.
gpt
Leave me, and forget me. You do not understand, you could not comprehend, the nature of her whom you think to love. From my childhood upward, I have felt as if I were marked out for some strange and preternatural doom; as if I were singled from my kind. This feeling (and, oh! at times it is one of delirious and vague delight, at others of the darkest gloom) deepens with me day by day. It is like the shadow of twilight, spreading slowly and solemnly round. My hour approaches; a little while, and it will be night!
human
Isabel! he exclaimed, as she ceased,