literature

A Southern Romance

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Literature Text

"Oh my dear Casanova, you cannot change. A leopard can change his spots more easily than you can change your ways. You know I will always love you...but I cannot be with you..."

"Maria, I-"

"Biondello, this ballroom is full of the young women that you have seen, wooed and left. They know, you know and I know, darling." Her soft hand pulled from his. "But I do not regret our time together."

"Maria-!"

"Good-bye, my Casanova." She kissed his cheek. "Good-bye." Then she left, her simple and honest essence remaining for a moment, but it did nothing to soften the devastating blow to his heart. The ballroom door closed and dead silence rang as the champagne glass slipped from his nerveless fingers. With the strangely musical smashing of the crystal, Biondello knew his world was now the same. Shattered.

A simple seduction, that's all it was meant to be. A bet, a dare even! He had won! Jacob had already paid the money to his bank account...yet he hadn't won...Not at all. His Maria, his belle Maria...She was gone. She had been so different from the others, she was different, she was his. He loved her. Loved her....her soulful brown eyes that cut through his lies, her smile that unhinged him, her way of knowing just what to do...he loved her....

He urgently looked to the Dame Roxanne.

"You know what you must do, Casanova." she said quietly, her accent floating over her fluttering black silk fan.

He turned in his now worthless dress shoes and began to run. The doors went flying open at his shove, the glided hallways just a blur of lights and colors. She wasn't there. Not even in the golden main lobby.

He very nearly broke down the front doors, his eyes instantly scanning the street for her familiar form. A street-lamp's glow highlighted her pink skirt and shoes as she slid into a taxi cab and closed the door.

"MARIA!" His anguished cry surprised him, his running feet hitting the pavement harshly. "Maria!" He was almost there - The cab pulled away, Maria not even looking out the window. His feet didn't stop.

He chased after Maria in that yellow taxi cab, chased her into the night, the stars ringing with his cry:

"MARIA!!"
"Everyone knows that one man. That dashing Frenchman, Englishman, Italian...what have you. That man who always dresses to the nines, who says all the right things at exactly the right time and to him, it does not matter if you are rich or poor, blond, brunette or even a ginger. If you are a young woman longing for romance...he'll sweep you away."
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