Leonore. 'Tis strange that I can sing, but in this peaceful home my sorrow seems to change to deep and quiet joy. Louis seems ever near, and Adrian's silent acts of tenderness beguile my solitary hours, and daily grow more dear to me. He guards me day and night, seeking to meet my slightest wish, and gather round me all I hold most dear. [_Enter a_ Page.] Angelo, what wouldst thou? Page. My master bid me bring these flowers and crave thee to accept them lady. Leonore. Bear him my thanks, and tell him that his gift is truly welcome. [_Exit_ Page.] These are the blossoms he was gathering but now upon the balcony; he hath sent the sweetest and the fairest [_a letter falls from the nosegay_]. But what is here? He hath never sent me aught like this before [_opens and reads the letter_]. Dearest Lady,--Wilt thou pardon the bold words I here address to thee, and forgive me if I grieve one on whom I would bestow only the truest joy. In giving peace to thy heart I have lost mine own. I was thy guide and comforter, and soon, unknown to thee, thy lover. I love thee, Leonore, fondly and truly; and here I ask, wilt thou accept the offering of a heart that will forever cherish thee. If thou canst grant this blessed boon, fling from the casement the white rose I send thee; but if thou canst not accept my love, forgive me for avowing it, and drop the cypress bough I have twined about the rose. I will not pain thee to refuse in words,--the mournful token is enough. Ask thine own heart if thou, who hast loved Louis, can feel aught save friendship for the unknown, nameless stranger, who through life and death is ever Thy loving Adrian.