lifted his eyes to the windows of the shops and houses of the poor as he
passed by, he would have seen Virginia Strozzi at her needlework--that
poor creature whose virtue his lordship was so benevolent as to protect;
for which truly gracious act his same poor Virginia must always be
grateful. It would have been a great kindness in his lordship to have
allowed one, who ever tried to be faithful and obedient, to kiss his
noble hand; and his Virginia cannot doubt but that she might have done
so. His lordship's nobility of mind and generosity of heart are so well
known, that for the very reason of them she has not dared to present
herself. I know what my duty is; I cannot come to you. I beg him not to
seek me; I am going away so soon as I have delivered this letter. Do not
ask me to come, Francis, I cannot, I cannot, I cannot.

"Your VIRGINIA, who tries to be good."

This letter stunned me. I sank under it, as under a violent blow. With
me also fell, dashed to the ground, all my honourable resolutions, all
my hopes of gaining self-respect. I will not deny also that I was
savagely stung by mortification; for a man is so made that he does not
relish a refusal any the more for being aware that he has not too
anxiously sought acceptance; but, on the contrary, his self-reproach for
that tardiness of his is made more bitter by the rebuff. He feels that
he has deserved it, and is the more deeply wounded.

And had I not deserved it? Why had I not crept back into Lucca--in any
disguise, by any subterfuge--when I was driven out? Why had I not braved
a second disgrace--nay, imprisonment, stripes, even death, on Virginia's
account? Alas, it was because Virginia's account was not heavy enough in
my books. Pass that, and have at me again. Why, when I knew her
whereabouts, did I not strike off across the hills to find her? Was it