She was still under the mastery of the feeling that some disagreeable dream had borne her back to these miserable rooms, while her true place was in the magnificent apartments of royalty.
She had slept too late to attend mass, and therefore went to the private chapel, the abode of the only confidante to whom she could open her whole heart without reserve or timidity--the Mother of God.
She had done this with entire devotion, and endeavoured to reflect upon what had happened and what obligations she must meet.

But she had had little success, for as soon as she began to think, her august lover rose before her eyes, she imagined that she heard his tender words, and her mind wandered to the future.
Only she had clearly perceived that she had lost something infinitely great, and obtained in its place something that was far more exquisite, that she had been deemed worthy of a loftier honour, a richer happiness than any one else.
Ah, yes, she was happy, more than happy, and yet not entirely so, for happiness must be bright, and a dark, harassing shadow fell again and again over the sunny enthusiasm which irradiated her nature and lent her a haughtier bearing.
She ascribed it to the novelty of her elevation to a height of which she had never dreamed.

Eyes accustomed to twilight must also endure pain, she told herself, ere they became used to the brilliance of the sun.
Perhaps Heaven, in return for such superabundant gifts, demanded a sacrifice, and denied complete enjoyment.

She would gladly do all in her power to satisfy the claim, and so she formed the resolve--which seemed to her to possess an atoning power--no longer to deceive the worthy man who loved her so loyally, and for whom she felt an affection.

At the very next opportunity Wolf should learn that she could never become his, and when she had just confessed it so gently and lovingly, she had only fulfilled the vow made in the chapel before the Virgin's image.