"Hear
me to an end, Monsieur de Beaulieu. I know how you must despise me; I
feel you are right to do so; I am too poor a creature to occupy one
thought of your mind, although, alas! you must die for me this
morning. But when I asked you to marry me, indeed, and indeed, it was
because I respected and admired you, and loved you with my whole soul,
from the very moment that you took my part against my uncle. If you
had seen yourself, and how noble you looked, you would pity rather
than despise me. And now," she went on, hurriedly checking him with
her hand, "although I have laid aside all reserve and told you so
much, remember that I know your sentiments toward me already. I would
not, believe me, being nobly born, weary you with importunities into
consent. I too have a pride of my own: and I declare before the holy
mother of God, if you should now go back from your word already given,
I would no more marry you than I would marry my uncle's groom."
Denis smiled a little bitterly.
"It is a small love," he said, "that shies at a little pride."
She made no answer, although she probably had her own thoughts.
"Come hither to the window," he said with a sigh. "Here is the dawn."
And indeed the dawn was already beginning. The hollow of the sky was
full of essential daylight, colorless and clean; and the valley
underneath was flooded with a gray reflection.
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