"Not so easy as you imagine," answered Chazeul; "for, in truth, it was impossible. I am not attempting, remember always, to exculpate myself: far from it. I acknowledge myself guilty; but some extenuation may be found in many circumstances; in education at a libertine court, in the habits and customs of the day, in the conduct of others, in temptations that I will not give to your ear. Yet I have loved you, and loved you truly; but I see the very mention of it offends you, and therefore I will say no more upon this head. I have set free my heart, and it is enough. Judge of me as you will--harshly if you be so disposed; but still I must have the advantage of my confession in your opinion, and that is something gained." Chazeul dissembled well: there was a candor, a straightforwardness in his tone which, notwithstanding all that Rose had seen and known, could not but create a doubt of that insincerity which she had always hitherto attributed to him. She could not help blaming, condemning, disliking him; but still her feelings were softened towards him. There seemed to shine out some good amongst the evil; there was something to redeem all that was wrong--something to qualify the darker points of his character. One, reason, perhaps, why women so often learn to love men whose whole conduct they reprobate, is that, from glimpses of higher qualities, they are brought, by the easy process of regret, to pity those who give themselves up to unbridled passion, as its slaves rather than its votaries. Not that Rose d'Albret could ever have loved him. There was an innate repugnance between her nature and his, which might slumber while no external circumstances called them into active opposition, but which, when once roused, was sure to burst forth into abhorrence on her side. She could be indifferent to him, she could hate him, as their relative position brought them nearer or more remotely in contact; but she could feel nothing like love. Yet he was the first, the only one who since her return to the château had spoken with even gentleness towards her; and in moments of danger and distress, there is something that teaches the weaker part of the human race to cling in some degree to anything that offers them support. Nevertheless, she would not banish the doubts and suspicions which she had such good cause to entertain; and she replied almost coldly, "My opinion of you, Monsieur de Chazeul, must depend entirely upon your own conduct towards me and others. You will acknowledge, doubtless, that the demeanour of all within these walls towards me since my return, has not been such as to conciliate any kindly feeling on my part." "It has been harsh and cruel," answered Chazeul, at once; "it has been harsh to us both. No choice has been left, either to you or me."