"Having spoken with candor
about myself, I have some claim to be believed when I speak of
her; when I assert that she neither did help me nor could help
me. If there be blame, it is mine only; if punishment, it is I
alone who should suffer."
He stopped suddenly, and grew confused. It was easy to guard
himself from the peril of looking at Rose, but he could not
escape the hard trial to his self-possession of hearing her, if
she spoke. Just as he pronounced the last sentence, she raised
her face again from his shoulder, and eagerly whispered to him:
"No, no, Louis! Not that sacrifice, after all the others--not
that, though you should force me into speaking to them myself!"
She abruptly quitted her hold of him, and fronted the whole court
in an instant. The railing in front of her shook with the
quivering of her arms and hands as she held by it to support
herself! Her hair lay tangled on her shoulders; her face had
assumed a strange fixedness; her gentle blue eyes, so soft and
tender at all other times, were lit up wildly. A low hum of
murmured curiosity and admiration broke from the women of the
audience. Some rose eagerly from the benches; others cried:
"Listen, listen! she is going to speak!"
She did speak. Silvery and pure the sweet voice, sweeter than
ever in sadness, stole its way through the gross sounds--through
the coarse humming and the hissing whispers.
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