Evening capital. (Annapolis, Md.) 1884-1910, 1891-04-27
ANNAPOLIS MD. MONDAY EVENING, APRIL 81, 1891.
THE MOONLIGHT TRYST.
An ITALIAN LOVE STORY.

blossoms falls silently like perfumed
snow.
A curly dark head peeps over the top
of the ladder. and voice that wishes TO
be firm, betrays slight tremor, hesi-
tating between the syllables:
@Ma-rialr
Il am here. But for heavens sake
speak low. There is still a light in papa's
room. Oh, dear me, I'm SO frightenedi
haven't any blood in my veins!"
~Come further this way; don't be
afraid come under the shadow of the
| branches; so; no, further this wayi"
She advanced with little, uncertain,
short steps; her slender white figure,
still almost that of child, flies along the
gravel of the path; she crouches tremb-
| ling at the foot of the low wall, among
the branches of dropping ivy, and looks
up toward the laughing eyes which shine
| through the leaves.
"Oh, Alfredol And if you fall, and
hurt yourself?"
~The ideal Ny poor little dovel You
ore all like that, you womenl l, instead,
difficulties animate me! They spur me
onward, they electrify mel For you, /
would be capable of much more. Maria,
do you care for me?"
Yes; speak low; heard a creaking. "
1t is the wind; do you care for me-?
Swear It'll"
Il swear it! Don't joggle the ladder
look, OH the ladder is totteringl"
II need your love in order to struggle
against lifel A mass of blockheads,
of scoundreIs, of idiotsl But we will
triumph over everything; if you will
only"
"What?"
"Be strong and faithful. Be my Muse
and my poetry"
But am; only, you know, papa is SO
strict, he would like me to play dolls
yet; and he says that you"
What? Speak, l am prepared for
everything. VIII t did he say? ! am
superior to these triaes. Tell mel"
THAT you are a naughty boy;
that you would do better to be at your
lessons, and that if he catches you"
Interruption; the wind laughs among
the trees with a soft little murmur Of
irony.
Are you weeping, treasure? ! will
avenge your tears one by onel"
"Yesi7
The sweet, musical little voice is lost
in stammer of sobs.
Your father is a barbarian, a tyrant
ike mine; but no matter; love is light,
is power; it crushes obstacles, levels
difficulties-in few years you viii be
mine.
"Yes; but il you do not pass the ex-
animation
II shall pass iti A thing of no ac-
countl The teacher has dislike to me (;
imagine, what beastl Maria, I have
brought you something; have kissed it
SO muchl Promise, darling, that you
viii keep it always, you know; even
when it shall be withered. Take it. No,
your hands; no, your apron.
She holds forth, spread: her ample,
childish apron, and he throws down,
light as q fake, large, velvety pansy,
with thick soft petals, dotted with gold,
which seem like the ardent eyes of liv-
ing person.
She takes it into her trembling little
hands, and places it upon her lips with
idolatrous fervor.
Swear to me that you viii not be
false to me, insists the fervid lover of 10
years of age. BY the memory of your
mother, promise me that you will not be
another's-"
She weeps little more loudly.
~Poor mamma
3 If she sees me from heavenl
@She will not be pleased with mel
Indeed, am doing wr0ngl
How dark it isl
sand if papa should suspect
And if your"
@What ideas, Mariai They are sound
asleep; at their age one does not know
anything of love, any longer-do you
understand? They don't remember what
| it means, to love, like you and me,
without fears, without cowardlinesses,
with fullness of felicity, with that in
toxication
This phrase, read in realistic novel,
appears unwillingly to be recalled with
exactitude. And perhaps it is on this
account that the moon hides behind the
cedar of Lebanon, fringed with silver, its
broadly smiling face.
Alfredo, it is late, let me go. /"
~No, not yet. How can you think OF
anything as commonplace as sleep2 II
is delicious night. / am wide awake,
full of daring: there is q wildness in my
blood which Iashes il onward. feel
myself capable of great, heroic enter.
prises. What is thata"
His voice, arisen by degrees to the de-
cided intonations Of manhood, Is lost IN
an exclamation of senseless, childish ter.
| Eor.
The ladder crealrs, trembles, shake
with great push from invisible hands.
~Ahl You rascalI
@rve caught you at Iastl
~Idler, madcap, good for nothingl
Boy hardly out Of the nurseryi
eTll teach you
Thumpl Thumpi
The wind rattles the branches with dry
little insulting laughs, while from the
other side of the wall resounds desper
! ate cry, and the great white face Of the
moon pityingly wells itself in the mists
of night, and mefcifuIly conceaIs the
shame Of the place OF paternal punish.
mentg