"Forgive me, dear Pauline, if I have seemed wanting in candor," said Camillia: "but it was Paul who bade me be silent." "Yes, Paul, who feared that the governess might betray her pupil. Now, listen to me, Camillia. The story of my life is a strange one. The day may come when I may choose to reveal it, but that day has not arrived. The history of the past may have done much to embitter a heart that was not once all base. I am ambitious--proud--though policy has taught me to conceal my pride--dependence, even on those I like, is painful to me; all this I have learnt to hide beneath a gay exterior." "Pauline, you terrify me!" exclaimed Camillia, "This power of concealing your feelings--" "Is akin to falsehood, is it not, Camillia? No matter. For the first time I speak the truth to you about myself. You have been kind, generous, affectionate. I should be worse than a murderess could I break your heart, for to break your heart would be to kill you--and yet, Camillia, three days ago I should have been capable of that infamy." "Pauline--Pauline!" "Ah, well may you open those large black eyes with that gaze of horror and amazement. Yes, I repeat, three days ago I should have been capable of this; because I am ambitious, and the ambitious will trample on the most sacred ties to attain the golden goal of their wishes. But this is past. Another road has opened to me, and henceforth, Camillia Moraquitos, I will be your friend. Say, will you trust me?" Pauline Corsi fixed her large, limpid blue eyes upon the face of her pupil, with an earnest glance of inquiry. "Will you trust me, Camillia?" "Yes, Pauline! Your words have terrified and bewildered me, but I feel that, whatever you may be, you are not deceiving me now." "I am not, indeed!" answered Pauline; "It is agreed then--you will trust me?" "I will!" "Tell me, then, do you love Paul Lisimon?" "True, eternally!" "And for that love you are prepared to sacrifice all ambitious hopes? You, who have much of your father's haughty nature can reconcile yourself to a life of comparative poverty and obscurity for the sake of him you love?" "It would be no sacrifice," answered Camillia; "poverty would have no trials if shared with him." "But, remember, Camillia Moraquitos, think of his unknown birth--low and obscure no doubt as are all mysterious lineages--would not that cause you to blush for your lover--your husband?" "I could never blush for him while I knew him to be honest and honorable." "Ay, but even then how bitter would be your trial! Do not forget that his honor has been sullied by a foul suspicion--that he has been branded as a thief!" "I forget nothing. I know that I love him and trust him. We cannot love those we do not trust."