There were tears in her splendid dark eyes.
"You talk, you talk!" she said, with a kind of sob in her voice--"It is all talk with you--talk which I cannot understand! I don't WANT to understand!--I am only a poor, ignorant girl.

I cannot talk--but I can love! Ah yes, I can love! You say there is no such thing as love! What is it then, when one prays every night and morning for a man ?--when one would work one's fingers to the bone for him ?--when one would die to keep him from sickness and harm?
What do you call it ?" He smiled.
"Self-delusion, Manella! The beautiful self-delusion of every nature-bred woman when her fancy is attracted by a particular sort of man.

She makes an ideal of him in her mind and imagines him to be a god, when he is nothing but a devil!" Something sinister and cruel in his look startled her,--she made the sign of the cross on her bosom.
"A devil ?" she murmured--"a devil-- ?" "Ah, now you are frightened!" he said, with a flash of amusement in his eyes--"You are a good Catholic, and you believe in devils.

So you make the sign of the cross as a protection.

That's right! That's the way to defend yourself from my evil influence! Wise Manella!" The light mockery of his tone roused her pride,--that pride which had been suppressed in her by the force of a passionate emotion she could not restrain.