HYA. Ah! Octave, is what Silvestre has just told Nerine really true?
Is your father back, and is he bent upon marrying you?

OCT. Yes, it is so, dear Hyacintha; and these tidings have given me a
cruel shock. But what do I see? You are weeping? Why those tears? Do
you suspect me of unfaithfulness, and have you no assurance of the
love I feel for you?

HYA. Yes, Octave, I am sure that you love me now; but can I be sure
that you will love me always?

OCT. Ah! could anyone love you once without loving you for ever?

HYA. I have heard say, Octave, that your sex does not love so long as
ours, and that the ardour men show is a fire which dies out as easily
as it is kindled.

OCT. Then, my dear Hyacintha, my heart is not like that of other men,
and I feel certain that I shall love you till I die.

HYA. I want to believe what you say, and I have no doubt that you are
sincere; but I fear a power which will oppose in your heart the
tender feelings you have for me. You depend on a father who would
marry you to another, and I am sure it would kill me if such a thing
happened.

OCT. No, lovely Hyacintha, there is no father who can force me to
break my faith to you, and I could resolve to leave my country, and
even to die, rather than be separated from you. Without having seen
her, I have already conceived a horrible aversion to her whom they