e, for
instance--he would have known that, for all her show of calm, she was no
less agitated than he who stood before her and adored her. But he only
saw her divinely aloof and himself most humanly mortal. Yet he took
courage from her permission to speak again. "Madonna, ever since that
sacred day when you gave me the rose that I carry next my heart, my mind
has had no other thought but of you, and my life no other purpose than
to be worthy, if only in a little, of your esteem. Yet, for some reason
unknown to me, you have of late, in any chance encounter, chosen to
withdraw from me the solace of your salutation, and I grieve bitterly
that this is so, though I know not why it is so."

"Let that pass," said Beatrice, gently, "and be as if it had not been. I
had heard that you kept light company. Young men often do so, and it is
no part of my duty to judge them. But you yourself, Messer Dante,
invited my judgment, challenged my esteem, told me that for my sake you
meant to do great things, prove yourself noble, a man I must admire.
When, after all the fine-sounding promises, I found you counted by
gossip as the companion of Vittoria, you need not wonder if I was
disappointed, and if my disappointment showed itself plainly on my
averted face."

"Madonna," Dante began, eagerly, but the girl lifted her hand to check
interruption, and Dante held his peace as the girl continued to speak.

"I know now that I was wrong in my reading of your deed; that what you
did, you did for a reason that you believed to be both wise and good.
Though I do not think that it is ever well for a true man to play an
untrue part, yet I know that you acted thus in the thought of serving
me. So let it pass, and be as if it had not been."

She was silent, and for a little while Dante was silent too, staring at
her beautiful face and clasping his hands tightly together, as one that
has much to say and knows not how to say it. Once and again his lips
that parted to speak closed again, for if he rejoiced greatly to stand
there in her presence and be free to speak his mind unimpeded, yet also
he feared greatly lest the words he might utter should prove unworthy of
this golden chance given him by Heaven.

But at length his longing conquered his alarm, and he spoke quickly.
"Hear me, Beatrice," he pleaded. "My heart is young, and I will never be
so vain as to swear that it is untainted by the folly of youth, or free
from the pride of youth, or clean of