Barbara's face was not flushed now, but rather seemed paler than it was wont to be.

I could not tell how it was, but I knew that I had wounded her.

Is not beauty jealous, and who but a clod will lavish praise on one fair face while another is before him?
I should have done better to play the hypocrite and swear that my folly, not Nell's features, was to blame.

But now I was stubborn and would recall not a word of all my raptures.

Yet I was glad that I had not told her who Cydaria was.
The silence was short.