The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-01-30

/ paintings by Albani, and having great
] windows looking toward the sea. II
/ served her as a boudOir and library in
/ one. Here, again and again, hundreds of
/ times he had found her OF old reading
some new German or French book Of
! philosophy, or the verses OF some Latin
| poet.
He entered the house by the garden
! loggia and the apartments which were
/ called the garden-rooms. The servants
/ were then closing the shutters for the
/ night; but they knew him and we're not
surprised to see him there, and one OF
/ them ushered him in without question
1 through the house to the little chamber
! which was called the Salotto di Albani.
I She was seated with her back TO the
/ door, reading, or seeming TO read. The
/ light from from the lamp fell on the dark
/ gold OF her hair, which was the hair of
/ Palma Vecchio's Barbara. He could only
see the crown of her head and one fold OF
| her velvet gown, the hue of the dark side
| of an olive leaf; all else was hidden by the
I carved back of her large char.
! He saw her thus through the parting
of the velvet curtains hanging before the
/ door. Two lamps were burning low, and
| shed a roseate light on the room; the
4 windows, still unshuttered, showed the
I serene night, in which a flush Of day still
I fingered.
He motioned the servant backward, and
| the man, who had known him well IN
other days and had then always let him
| enter unannOunced, allowed him to do so
now and closed the door noiselessly.
In moment, before the Duchess Soria
| had even looked up from the volume she
was reading, Guilderoy had crossed the
room and was at her feet.
She withdrew her gown from the eager
clasp OF his hands, and flush OF anger
rose over her face.
you have bribed my servants - she
said with unutterable scorn.
"YOu left me no other way. You would
not answer me. You would not see me
/ alone"
"Why should I see you alone? AS for
answer l already answered enough-more
| than enough-at AK.
| at is an answer which | will not fake" !"
"You must take it, since it is my will to
give it."
She withdrew her hands from his hold
with something OF the violence which he
had once known in her.
| lie kissed the folds of her skirts.
! Il will not take it ] do not believe in it.
/ All can never be over between us. Here,
| in this sacred room, which heard my
earliest vows to you, l swear that you are
the only woman whom l have ever loved
in my whole life.
''To how many women have you said
SOP" And how dare vou recall vows
which were only uttered to be fore
sworn"
Il have said so to no other woman. No
other-living or dead.
"You have said so at least to your wife p
J "Never. l never loved her"
"Then why did you marry her? No
woman can have either compassion or re-
spect for any man who knows what he
wishes so little as that
He colored with offended pride and irri-
/ tated pain.
II am human" he said. angrily. Men
! have never, that | know Of in any part OF
| the worlds history, been conspicuous for
consistency where their passions were in
volved."
DO YOU not understand what an insult
| to all passion such inconsistency is ?"
''No: passion is, in its very essence,
wayward and shifting as the winds. You
| reproach me with my mutability. But
/ YOU only do so because YOU will not en-
deavor to understand. 1t is only compre-
( hension that is ever pitiful."
She looked at him with a long gaze,
| under which his own ewes fell.
l think understand you perfectly" she
] said, in her low, sweet, dreamy voice.
you study your own pleasure. You do
not consider anything beyond it. l loved
| YOU immensely. 1t is no fattery to you
! to say so, since for nearly seven years
l never disguised it from YOU, and the
| grave OF your child is there in attestation
| of il. You knew that you were my world /;
/ H. 10 %
/ tracted you, you dismissed me with
/ scarcely moro consideration than you
/ would have shown to a femme entretenue.
| / said nothing; l could not avenge it, and
women OF my character do not complain
! or appeal. Now, because you see me
/ sought by other men, or because, perhaps,
! your feeling for me was OF q deeper kind
than you knew, you are as ready to throw
| aside your allegiance TO others as you were
ready then to throw aside yours to me for
/ them. Why should ] give YOU either pity
or credence? Why should l believe in
| the strength of feelings which have never
been more stable than a marsh-light,
which fits hither and thither? You do
not know what love is. You have too
much selt-love to know it.
/ He sighed as he heard her; his con-
| science told him that there was truth in
/ the charge. ct ne knew JDaJ his love
/ for her was very great; what proof could
he give her which would persuade her of
| Its strength?
you are unmerciful like all women" I"
| ne said at last. MAY /, without ofense,
| tell you truth also? did love you
1 greatly-as much as it is in me to love at
| ALL But you tried me often; you were too
eXacting too imperious, too passionate.
| We always revolt when we feel the curb
| 1t was a momentary impatience, not of
| You, but OF the dominion you sought to
have over me, which made me fancy that
/ in marriage | might perhaps find greater
| tranquility and more genuine peace"
Beside which, Lady Guilderoy was
very lovely, and you wished for her, and
| you had never denied yourself any whim
or any desirei 1t is very possible that l
was unwise and exacting. Few women
are otherwise; and have one preten-
sion l confess, one which you know Of
old: reign alone, or reign not at all"
Gui deroy smiled YEARLY.
''Is that worthy of your knowledge of
! our weaknessesY Y'
Perhaps not. l make no claim to con-
sistency. But what | claim | give. The
world considers me a cOquette because |
have power over men. But | have never
been a coquette in the sense of dividing
my affections. / will admit, even though
it tiatters you, that | have ALWAYS been
true to you, though you were false to me. "