Page:Idalia, by 'Ouida'.djvu/312

304 me at your word—there is no sin I would not sin for you! I know you as you are—and yet, so utterly in spite of all, I love you! I came to-night to see your face once more. I go to die for Italy. Say one last gentle word to me; we shall never meet again on earth."

She stood there, above him, in the clear radiance shining from the waters; his words had struck deep to the core of the remorse that was slowly awaking in her; a profound pity for him, as profound a loathing of herself, arose; all the gentler, purer, nobler nature in her was touched, and accused her more poignantly than the most bitter of his accusations. She stooped slightly; her proud instincts, her habit of power, and her world of levity and mockery, made her yield with difficulty, made her pity with rarity; but when she did either, she did them as no other woman could.

She stooped slightly, and her eyes were heavy as they rested on him :

"I have but one word: Forgive me!"

And in that one word Idalia spoke more than could have been uttered in the richest eloquence that could have confessed her error and his wrong. Yet while she said it, she knew that both the sin and the injury were beyond all pardon.