“This,” I cried, “from the woman who was ready yesterday to shed her heart's blood to win one strong arm for her country? I have renounced everything, allied myself with abhorred robbers and cut-throats, only to learn that her one desire is everything to her, her divine, beautiful country nothing. I wish that a man had spoken those words to me, Dolores, so that I might have put this sword you speak of to one good use before breaking it and flinging it from me like the vile thing it is! Would to God the earth would open and swallow up this land for ever, though I sank down into hell with it for the detestable crime of taking part in its pirate wars!” She stood perfectly still, gazing at me with widely dilated eyes, a new expression coming into her face; then when I paused for her to speak, expecting only a fresh outburst of scorn and bitterness, a strange, sorrowful smile flitted over her lips, and, coming close to me, she placed her hand on my shoulder. “Oh,” she said, “what a strength of passion you are capable of! Forgive me, Richard, for I have forgiven you. Ah, we were made for each other, and it can never, never be.” She dropped her head dejectedly on my shoulder. My anger vanished atthose sad words; love only remained--love mingled with profoundest compassion and remorse for the pain I had inflicted. Supporting her with my arm, I tenderly stroked her dark hair, and, stooping, pressed my lips against it. “Do you love me so much, Dolores,” I said, “enough even to forgive the cruel, bitter words I have just spoken? Oh, I was mad--mad to say such things to you, and shall repent it all my life long! How cruelly have I wounded you with my love and my anger! Tell me, dearest Dolores, can you forgive me?” “Yes, Richard; everything. Is there any word you can speak, any deed you can do, and I not forgive it? Does your wife love you like that--can you love her as you love me? How cruel destiny is to us! Ah, my beloved country, I was ready to shed my blood for you--just to win one strong arm to fight for you, but I did not dream that this would be the sacrifice required of me. Look, it will soon be time for you to go--we cannot sleep now, Richard. Sit down here with me, and let us spend this last hour together with my hand in yours, for we shall never, never, never meet again.” And so, sitting there hand in hand, we waited for the dawn, speaking many sad and tender words to one another; and at last, when we parted, I held her once more unresisting to my breast, thinking, as she did, that our separation would be an eternal one. CHAPTER XVIII