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Then woe is me! Since wives must be so perfect, Why didst thou wed Zorada de Modinez?

Dost thou upbraid me for it? Then too well I see the change.—Yes, I will call it change, For I must still believe thou lovedst me once.

Yes, yes! I loved thee once, I love thee now, And will for ever love thee, dear Romiero, If thou wilt suffer me.

Suffer thee, dear Zorada! It is paradise To think thou lovest me, hell to doubt of it.

Then doubt it not. If I am cold and sad, I have a cause,—I must repeat my words,— Which does to thee no wrong. Some few days hence Thou shalt know all, and thou wilt pity me. Did I e'er tell thee that which afterwards Thou foundest to be untrue?

Thou never didst.

Then why suspect me now?