"They dared not, Eugenie!" said Beatrice, her dark eye flashing as she spoke; "they dared not! There is not a minion in all France who would dare to cast a spot upon my name! Not because they fear to speak falsehood, be it as gross and glaring as the sun; but because they know I hold, that where the honour of Beatrice of Ferrara is assailed, she has as much right as any punctilious man in all the land to avenge herself as best she may. Nay, start not, dear friend! but send away your women, and let us have a few calm moments together, if the idle world will let us." The women, who had been in attendance upon Eugenie de Menancourt, required no farther commands; but, the one laying down her book, and the other covering up her embroidery-frame, left the room. "You started but now, Eugenie," continued Beatrice, advancing towards the little platform in the bay window, and seating herself beside her friend; "you started but now, when I said that women have as much right to avenge themselves, when their honour is assailed, as men; but I say so still--ay, and even more right. I have long thought so, and shall ever think so, Eugenie; though Heaven only knows how I should act, were such a case to happen. I might be as weak as women generally are, and let the traitor escape out of pure fear: but I think not, Eugenie--I think not. I believe that I would rather die the next minute after having avenged myself, than live on in the same world with one who had slandered that fair fame which, in spite of circumstances, and my own wild thoughtlessness, I have maintained unstained in the midst of this foul court." "Nay, but consider, Beatrice," cried Eugenie, earnestly, "this world is not all." "I know it well, sweet friend," replied Beatrice; "but I think, if there be pardon in heaven for any offence, it would be for that Men claim the right, and die without a fear; and why should not we have the same privilege? They, when their honour is assailed, could clear themselves without revenge; they could call their comrades to judge of their conduct; but, with us, the very whisper is destruction; and no proof of innocence ever gives us back that pure, untarnished name which is our only honour; we can have no exculpation, we can have no redress, and vengeance is all that is left us." Eugenie was silent, and Beatrice gazed upon her, for a moment or two, with a smile, adding, at last, "But no--no, Eugenie, such thoughts and such feelings are not for you. Your nation, your education, your country, will not let you feel as I feel, or think as I think; and yet, Eugenie, we love each other," she added, twining her graceful arm through that of her fair friend, "and yet we love each other--is it not so?"