The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 325: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

308 THE COURT OF LONDON contained the consummation of her desires and would be the reward as well as the proof of her triumph, “ if I tell you everything which regards that subject, shall I the next moment be enfolded in your embrace? ”’ “Yes, yes,’ answered Bergami, “‘ you shall, you shall.’’ “Then it was I who have worn a costume resembling yours,” she answered, in the delirium that filled her brain. “It was I who personated you, having secretly procured a dress the counterpart of your own. Yes, and likewise whiskers and moustache — oh, a beautiful moustache,” she cried, almost with childish delight, in the exultation that filled her soul and was thus hurrying her so quickly along in the giddy whirl of her thoughts. “ In every respect did I assume your external appearance, coat, boots — And all that costume, so neat, so perfect, so elegant, I have it still, it is in my own room, and one of these days, when you have time and choose to humour me, I will put it on and you will tell me how I look.” “Oh, Emma, Emma! you are intoxicating my brain, you are making me drunk with wicked thoughts,’’ murmured the royal equerry, as he drew closer toward the siren. “‘ Come into my arms.” And the next moment Emma, the -wanton, glowing, impassioned Emma, was palpitating upon his breast, with her arms thrown around his neck and her lips pressed to his cheek. But scarcely had this incident of the scene endured for a moment, scarcely, indeed, had she thus precipitated herself into his embrace, when, appearing to be suddenly alarmed, he said, ‘“‘ We shall be observed, we shall be ob- served. Good heavens! what will then be thought? What will be said of us?’’ And disengaging himself from her clasp, he started to his feet. ‘“Oh, you are mine, you are mine!’ she exclaimed, in a voice full of rapture, ‘‘ and I am happy, I am happy,” she repeated, her tone swelling to a pitch of thrilling exultation. ‘ But when shall we meet again— Ah! we shall meet in the presence of others, but I mean, when shall we meet alone? ”’ “Tisten, Emma,” said Bergami, taking her hand and pressing it with every appearance of enthusiastic warmth, ‘T long to see you in that dress of which you have spoken, ' 7) CEONMicel ore <S a