But he did not try, or dare to try, to examine what he felt, and was going to feel.

The manliness that had at last come to its full growth in him clung to the word "true" as she had meant it.
But she, being left alone, leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands as she gazed at the smouldering remains of the fire.

She had known well enough that she had loved him before he had come; she had known it too well when he had told her how he had driven Folco out of his house for having spoken of her too carelessly.

Then the blood had rushed to her throat, beating hard, and if she had not gone quickly to the window she felt that she must have cried for joy.

She was far too proud to let him guess that, but she was not too proud to love him, in spite of everything, though it meant that she compared herself with the peasant girl, and envied her, and in all maiden innocence would have changed places with her if she could..