But there were these moving considerations also. If Aurelia had tacitly reproached herself to her husband with what were my crimes, and only mine--was it not my bounden duty to save her before it were too late? Must I not avow what, as it seemed, she was on the point of avowing? If she--pure innocent--believed herself guilty and needing forgiveness-- whereas I and I only was that monster--in a few moments' time, when she should be with her husband in the innermost shrine of the Temple of Hymen, I might be sure she would take upon herself the guilt, and alone receive my punishment. Could I endure the thought of this, miserable that I was? Could I suffer such a sacrifice and wear the livery of man? I knew that I could not. "Out, therefore, of thy hiding-place, sinner," I bade myself, "and get the vice scourged out of thee." These were a part of my reflections, this was my plain resolution. Generous, honourable, they seemed to me then--honourable alike to Aurelia and to her husband. The doctor had replenished his glass, and was leaning back in his chair. He had released some of the buttons of his vest, and they had flown to their repose. He was looking down at the table, where he twisted the glass about; he was thinking of his wife, of her sweet humour, innocence and purity--of everything which I so adored and had dared to tarnish. He was frowning and smiling at once at his thoughts. I heard him say to himself, "That's a good girl--that's a good girl of mine"--when I walked out of the cupboard and stood, pale but composed, before him at the opposite side of the table. Even then, so absorbed he was in his mellow humours he did not hear me. "Eh, la Madonna!" he mused--"as good as gold!" He stretched his legs out to the full and glanced with lazy luxury round about his room. Then he saw me. CHAPTER V DISASTER "Light of Light!" he said in a horrible whisper--and again, "Very God--" "Doctor Lanfranchi," said I seriously, for my passion lifted me up, "Doctor Lanfranchi, she is better than refined gold." He did what I suppose he had not done for many years; he crossed himself over the face. "Bless my soul!" he said. "Sir, sir," I admonished him, "you little know of what excellent substance that saint is compact. Sir--" I might have continued I know not how long upon a theme so noble, but for his astonishment, which, though it kept him stupid, must have a vent. "Who the devil--" stammers he, "What the devil--" It amazed me, and vexed me greatly, that I could not make him understand whom I praised. I went close to him, I touched him on the shoulder. "Hearken to me, doctor," said I, "Donna Aurelia, your lady, is as it were an angel of Heaven--and I"--I said it with sorrowful grimness--"and I have better reason to know it than you."