for her, in so few things could she justify herself
by denial or argument. 'I acknowledge my fault, and how my heart has
been drawn from you by some delusion, as powerful and resistless as
though the result of magic. But when I confess it freely, and tell you
how I now see my duty and my heart more clearly, as though a veil of
after all, I find no forgiveness in your heart, said I not truly that
man's faith cannot be trusted? Am I not the same Leta as of old?'

'The same as of old?' he exclaimed. 'Can you look earnestly and
truthfully into your soul, and yet avow that you are the pure-hearted
girl who roamed hand in hand with me only a year ago, in our native
isle, content to have no ambition except that of living a humble life
with me? And now, with your simple tastes and desires swept away--with
your soul covered with love of material pleasures as with a lava
crust--wrapt up in longing for Rome's most sinful, artificial
excesses--having, for gold or position or power or ambition, or what
not, so long as it was not for love, given yourself up a willing victim
to a heartless master--do you dare, after this, to talk to me of love,
and call yourself the same?'

'And are you one of those who believe that there can be no forgiveness
for repentant woman?'

'Of forgiveness, all that can be desired; but of forgetfulness, none.
There is one thing that no man can forget; and were I to repulse the
admonitions of my judgment, and strive to pass that thing by, who would
sooner scorn me than yourself? Let all this end. Know that I love you
not, and could never love you again. Your scorn, indifference, and
deceit have long ago crushed from my heart all the love it once held.
Know further, that if I did still love you, my pride would condemn the
feeling, and I would never rest until I had destroyed it, even were it
necessary to destroy myself rather than to yield.'

'These are brave words, indeed!' she exclaimed, taunted by his rebuke
into a departure from her assumption of affection. 'But they better suit
the freeman upon his own mountain side than the slave in his cell. Samos
is still afar off. The road from here to Ostia has not yet been
traversed by you in safety. Even this door between you and the open
street has not been thrown back. And yet you dare to taunt me, knowing
that I hold in my hand the key, and, by withdrawing it, can take away
all hope from you. Do you realize what will be your fate if you remain
here--how that