a woman--or lightly made----? Do you think me a bad woman? I shall not
deny it--but I shall add to your judgment that I am a loving one. Ah,
there was a time," she said bitterly--for she saw my dismay--"there was
a time when you prayed me to love you, and I refused. If then I had
agreed, would you have gone white and red by turns--would you have
averted your eyes--would you have looked on the ground?" She took me in
her eager arms, she clung to me, she strove, panted for a kiss. "To me,
to me, Francis--you loved me first--you taught me--I am yours by right
of conquest. Here I am--on your breast, the forgiving, the longing
Aurelia!"

I cannot express what I felt during this scene. Painful as it was to me
to know myself unaffected by it, it was exquisite grief to me to have
her unqueen herself before my eyes. O Aurelia, to stoop from thy
celestial commerce to barter for a kiss! I know not what I said, nor can
remember exactly what it was that I did. I was, I trust, gentle with
her. I disengaged myself without abruptness and led her to a seat. I
said nothing--but when she was more at ease within herself, I knelt
before her, kissed her hand respectfully, and left her. It was, I am
sure, a case where fewest words were best. I believe that she was
weeping; I know that I was.

Going out of the villa gates into the street, I was aware of a cloaked
figure standing at the first corner towards Florence, evidently upon the
watch for me. The moment I was clear of the gate he came to meet me, and
I saw that he was followed by another muffled man, and that both carried
swords. I kept my course, however, as if they were no concern of mine,
and made room for them to pass me on the side of the wall. But the first
of them stopped in front of me.