"Hold," cried Corinne, "speak not thus to me yet!"

"Ah, tell me what you have to tell me!"

"Presently I shall; and I shall hear my sentence from your lips
unmurmuringly, even if it be cruel."

Ere she revealed her story, Corinne gave a fête, as if to enjoy one more
day of fame and happiness ere her lover pronounced her doom. It was held
on the cape of Micena. The lovely bay and its islands lay before the
party; Vesuvius frowned in the background. As the party embarked to
return in the glowing calm of the evening hour, Corinne put back her
tresses that she might better enjoy the sea air; Oswald had never seen
her look so beautiful.

"Oh, my love, oh, my love," he whispered, "can I ever forget this day?"

"Alas!" returned Corinne, "I hope not for such another day."

"Corinne!" he cried, "here is the ring my father gave his wife, let me
give it to you, and while you keep it, let me be no longer free."

"No, no! take it back," she answered in a stifled voice.

"I shall not," he replied; "I swear never to wed another till you send
back that ring."

"Perhaps when you have read my history, the dreadful word adieu--"

"Never," cried Oswald, "until my deathbed--fear not that word till