Your life is mine now,
Felipe. I love you, I love you." She clasped her hands together and
pressed them to her cheek. "Ah, if you knew," she cried; "if you could
only look into my heart. Pride is nothing; good name is nothing; friends
are nothing. Oh, it is a glory to give them all for love, to give up
everything; to surrender, to submit, to cry to one's heart: 'Take me; I
am as wax. Take me; conquer me; lead me wherever you will. All is well
lost so only that love remains.' And I have heard all that has
happened--this other one, the Senorita Buelna, how that she for bade you
her lands. Let her go; she is not worthy of your love, cold,
selfish----"
"Stop!" cried Felipe, "you shall say no more evil of her. It is enough."
"Felipe, you love her yet?"
"And always, always will."
"She who has cast you off; she who disdains you, who will not suffer you
on her lands? And have you come to be so low, so base and mean as that?"
"I have sunk no lower than a woman who could follow after a lover who
had grown manifestly cold."
"Ah," she answered sadly, "if I could so forget my pride as to follow
you, do not think your reproaches can touch me now." Then suddenly she
sank at the bedside and clasped his hand in both of hers. Her beautiful
hair, unbound, tumbled about her shoulders; her eyes, swimming with
tears, were turned up to his; her lips trembled with the intensity of
her passion.
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