Then her head drooped again and was laid against my breast; a sigh escaped her, and she began to weep softly.
"Nay, Roxalanne, do not fret.

Come, child, it is not your way to be weak." "I have betrayed you!" she moaned.

"I am sending you to your death!" "I understand, I understand," I answered, smoothing her brown hair.
"Not quite, monsieur.

I loved you so, monsieur, that you can have no thought of how I suffered that morning when Mademoiselle de Marsac came to Lavedan.
"At first it was but the pain of thinking that--that I was about to lose you; that you were to go out of my life, and that I should see you no more--you whom I had enshrined so in my heart.
"I called myself a little fool that morning for having dreamed that you had come to care for me; my vanity I thought had deluded me into imagining that your manner towards me had a tenderness that spoke of affection.

I was bitter with myself, and I suffered oh, so much! Then later, when I was in the rose garden, you came to me.
"You remember how you seized me, and how by your manner you showed me that it was not vanity alone had misled me.