her still? Can I forget that it was not for my own glory, but
for hers, that I tore myself away from her and went to these late wars,
hoping to win new honors, only that I might lay them at her feet? Night
after night, as I lay in my tent and gazed up at the sky, I thought of
her alone, and how that the stars shone with equal light upon us both;
and I nerved my soul with new strength, to finish my task with
diligence, so that I might the more quickly return to her side. And
then, Leta, then it was that I met yourself; and how sadly and basely I
yielded to the fascinations you threw about me, you too well know. It
was not love I felt for you; think it not. My passion for you was no
more like the calm affection with which I had cherished her, than is the
flame which devours the village like the moonlight which so softly falls
upon and silvers yonder fountain. But, for all that, it has brought
destruction upon me. And now--'

'And now, Sergius?'

'Now I am undone by reason of it. From the first moment your ensnaring
glance met mine, I was undone, though I then knew it not. Then was my
pure love for her obscured. Then, impelled by I know not what infernal
spirit, began my downward course of deceit, until at last I almost
learned to hate her whom I had so much loved, and met her, at the end,
with but a simulated affection; caring but little for her, indeed, but
not--the gods be thanked!--so far gone in my selfish cruelty as to be
able to wound her heart by open neglect in that hour of her joy.
Whatever I may have done since then, that day, at least, her happiness
was undimmed. How gladly would I now give up all the honors I have
gained, if I could but restore the peace and quiet of the past!
Remembering all this, Leta, and how much of this cruel wrong is due to
you, can you not have pity? I know that she would never have been
exposed to this temptation but for my own neglect of her, and but for
the fact that you had ambitious purposes of your own to work out. Nay, I
chide you not. Let all that pass and be forgotten. I will be generous,
and never mention it again, if you will only tell me how far your arts,
rather than her own will, have led her astray. It cannot harm you now to
freely utter everything. The time for me to resent it is past. I have no
further power over you, or the will to exercise it if I had.'

A moment before, and she had been on the point of yielding to the
unaccustomed pity that she began to feel, and