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Can you blame me for having hidden it from you? Did not both duty and shame constrain me? Ah, what is this? What a change!

What? What?

How these months have changed you! Helena, you have been ill?

No, no; but tell me

Yes, you have been ill! You must be ill now;—your fever-flushed temples, the blue rings round your eyes

Oh, 'tis nothing, my beloved! Do not look at me, Julian! 'Tis only anxiety and wakeful nights on your account; ardent prayers to the Blessed One on the cross

Spare yourself, my treasure; it is more than doubtful whether such zeal is of any avail.

Fie; you speak impiously.—But tell me of your own affairs, Julian! I implore you, hide nothing from me.

Nothing can now be hidden. Since the Empress's death, I have taken no single step here in