. . and
merry, and kind to me at first. Before God I never dreamed that I
was looking on harm--not at first--but afterwards, when it was too
late. The people who had put me there ceased to send money, and
being a strong child and willing to work, at first I was put to make
the women their chocolate, and carry it up to them of a morning, and
so, little by little, I came to be their house-drudge. I had lost
all news of Camillo. For hours I have hunted through the streets of
Brussels, if by chance I might get sight of him . . . but he was
lost. And I--O Cavalier, have pity on me!"
"Wife," said I, standing before her, "why have you told me this?
Did I not say to you that I have seen your face and believe, and no
story shall shake my belief? . . . Nay, then, I am glad--yes, glad.
Dear enough, God knows, you would have been to me had I met you, a
child among these hills and ignorant of evil as a child.
How much dearer you, who have trodden the hot plough-shares and come
to me through the fires! . . . See now, I could kneel to you, O
queen, for shame at the little I have deserved.
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