You evaded the question. Why?"
"Did I evade it?" and Varillo took her hand in his own and kissed
it,--"Dolcesza mia, I would not pain you for the world!"
A slight shadow clouded her face.
"You will not pain me," she answered, "except by not being true to
yourself and to me. You know how I have worked,--you know how high I
have set my ambition for your sake--to make myself more worthy of
you; but if you do honestly think that a woman's work in art must
always be inferior to a man's, no matter how ardently she studies--
no matter even if she has so perfected herself in drawing, anatomy,
and colouring as to be admitted the equal of men in these studies--
if the result must, in your mind, be nevertheless beneath that of
the masculine attainment, why say so,--because then--then--"
"Then what, my sweet philosopher?" asked Florian lightly, again
kissing the hand he held.
She fixed her eyes fully on him. "Then," she replied slowly, "I
should know you better--I should understand you more!"
An unpleasant twinge affected his nerves, and his eyelids quivered
and blinked as though struck by a sudden shaft of the sun. This was
the only facial sign he ever gave of the difficulty he at times
experienced in meeting the straight, clear glance of his betrothed.
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