You must have known that my woman's heart was on fire--you must have seen that my whole soul was in my speech, yet you told me in cold, well-chosen words that you had only a brother's affection for me.

On that night, for the first time, I realized the truth that, come what might, you would never love me--that you had no idea of carrying out the old contract--that your interest in me was simply a kindly, friendly one.

On that night, when I realized that truth, the better part of me died; my love--the love of my life--died; my hopes--the life-long hopes--died; the best, truest, noblest part of me died.
"When you had gone away, when I was left alone, I fell on my knees and swore to be revenged.

I vowed vengeance against you, no matter what it might cost.

Again let me quote to you the lines: "'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.' You scorned me--you must suffer for it.