"But you are right. Love
alone has saved us. But at first even the knowledge that you were La
Tournoire, and that none the less I loved you, did not make me turn back.
If my duty to my father had before required that I should sacrifice you,
did my duty not still require it? Did it make any change in my duty that
I loved you? What right had I, when devoted to a task like mine, to love
any one? If I had violated my duty by loving you, ought I not to
disregard my love, stifle it, act as if it did not exist? I had to forget
that I was a woman who loved, remember only that I was a daughter. My
filial duty was no less, my proper choice between my father and another
was not altered by my having fallen in love. I must carry my horrible
task to the end. What a night of struggle was that at the inn, after I
had learned that the appointed victim was you! And now it was necessary
that you should not leave me; therefore I spoke no more of the barrier
between us. I fortified myself to hide my feelings and maintain my
pretence. Surely you noticed the change in me, the forced composure and
cheerfulness. How I tried to harden myself!
"And after that the words of love you so often spoke to me, what bliss
and what anguish they caused me! I was to have made you love me, but you
loved me already. I ought to have rejoiced at this, for the success that
it promised my purpose. Yet, it was on that account that I shuddered at
it; and if it did give me moments of joy it was because it was pleasant
to have your love.
Pages:
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390