"Who can prove to you," he demanded, "that I am the author of this offence, or rather crime ?" "Every bad case may be denied, but do not you deny." After a moment's silence, he replied: "I will not lie, I am not capable of lying.

Yes, I am the guilty one; I confess it with sorrow, because you are offended by my audacity." "I never liked madrigals, either in prose or verse, signed or anonymous," she returned, rather dryly.
He exclaimed, "You took this letter for a madrigal ?" Then, having reread it, he deliberately tore it up, throwing the pieces into the fireplace, and added, smiling: "It certainly lacked common-sense; he who wrote it is a fool, and I have nothing to say in his defence." Crossing her hands on her breast, and uplifting to him her brown eyes, that were as proud as gentle, she softly murmured, "What more ?" "I came to Chur," he replied, "I entered a church, I there saw a fair unknown, and I forgot myself in gazing at her.

That evening I saw her again; she was walking in a garden where there was music, and this music of harps and violins was grateful to me.

I said within myself: 'What a thing is the heart of man! The woman who has passed me by without seeing me does not know me, will never know of my existence; I am ignorant of even her name, and I wish to remain so, but I am conscious that she exists, and I am glad, content, almost happy.

She will be for me the fair unknown; she cannot prevent me from remembering her.