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Updated: June 1, 2025
"How suspicious you are!" cried she, with a charming pout, as she shook his hand away from her face. "I have come from wholly disinterested sympathy; partly to warn you, partly to find out whether your love is perchance fixed upon a lady that would render my warning useless." "Well, so you see, Rosabella, that I was right, and that your tenderness was not aimless. Now, then, you want to warn me?
So the good King, who had been a real father to the bird-boy, put on his shining armor, kissed his dear wife and child good-bye, and rode off to the battlefield. The bird-boy begged and pleaded to be taken with him as his squire, but the King would not hear of it, and insisted that he remain in the castle to take care of the Queen and Rosabella.
The kiss which she had received from the bravo afforded them an excellent opportunity for throwing out a few malicious insinuations. "She received a great service," said one, "and there's no saying how far the fair Rosabella in the warmth of gratitude may have been carried in rewarding her preserver."
"What ails you, my good father?" she inquired in a melodious voice, and with a look of benevolent anxiety. Abellino pointed towards the arbour; Rosabella led him in, and placed him on a seat of turf. "God reward you, lady," stammered Abellino, faintly. He raised his eyes; they met Rosabella's, and a blush crimsoned her pale cheeks.
Rosabella, dost thou love me still? And still she answered not; but she threw upon him a look innocent and tender as ever beamed from the eye of an angel, and that look betrayed but too plainly that the miscreant was still master of her heart. She turned from him hastily, threw herself into Camilla's arms, and exclaimed, "God forgive you, man, for torturing me so cruelly!"
At that moment the evening sun broke through the clouds, and a ray of its setting glory was thrown full upon the countenance of Rosabella. She started from the sofa, extended her arms towards the radiant orb, and exclaimed, while a smile of hope played round her lips, "God is merciful; God will have mercy on me." Contarino. Was it at five o'clock that Flodoardo engaged to produce Abellino?
It instantly occurred to him how much power such circumstances would place in the hands of Mr. Fitzgerald. The thought passed through his mind, "Would he marry Rosabella?" And he seemed to hear a repetition of the light, careless tones, "Of course not, she was a quadroon." His uneasiness was too strong to be restrained, and the second day after his arrival he started for New Orleans.
His manners, though elegant, seem to me flippant and audacious. He introduced himself into my domestic sanctum; and, as I partook of his father's hospitality years ago, I find it difficult to eject him. He came here a few months since, to transact some business connected with the settlement of his father's estate, and, unfortunately, he heard Rosabella singing as he rode past my house.
Rosabella was obviously agitated, but she readily replied, "Do you suppose, Papasito, that we would accept a lover without asking you about it? When Mamita querida died, she charged us to tell you everything; and we always do."
Rosabella had lost her parents early. Her mother died when her child could scarcely lisp her name; and her father, Guiscardo of Corfu, the commander of a Venetian vessel, eight years before had perished in an engagement with the Turks, while he was still in the prime of life.
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