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ARIADNE. 129speak the truth. Yetit was not onlybaseness —no. Such purity with such passion as hersInever knew. She never understoodIdid herwrong; she only loved me. She was so calm,too, so like the old statues and the old fancies ofthe immortals, with eyes that never seemedhkely to weep or snide or look anywhere exceptstraight to then- home in heaven. Inever had"seen a womanlike that" Therefore youwere not contentuntilyouhadmade her like to others! "" She neverbecame so— never," he saidquickly." Imay have ruined her as you and the worldcall nun; but, asIlive here,IswearIleft hersoul unsullied. Coarse words wouldhave canceredone's tongue, spoken to her! One nightItookher to the operain Paris — only one. It seemedlike dragging Athene through a bagnio; a mereman's look at her seemedinsult."" You could feel that! And yet"" Aye, and yetIforsook her, you would say.Because of that; can you not understand ? Shewas a constant shame to me! If you hadpoured oui poison to a creature trusting you,VOL. III.K