"David, I don't want to excuse myself or to blame anybody else, whoever
it may be, and however wickedly he may have acted. But, from my soul and
before God, I tell you that if I denounced you I did it for the best."
"The best!"
He laughed bitterly, but she forced herself to go on.
"When you went away you warned me that your enemies could be merciless.
They have been merciless. First, they tempted me with the fear of
poverty. I had been accustomed to wealth, comfort, luxury. Look round
you, David--they are gone. Did I ever regret them? Never! I was rich
enough in your love, and I would not have sacrificed that for a queen's
crown."
She looked up at his tortured face and saw that it was full of scorn,
but still she struggled on.
"Then they tempted me with jealousy. The forged letter which killed
Bruno was intended to poison me. Did I believe it? No! I knew you loved
me, and if you didn't, if you had deceived me, that made no difference.
I loved you, and even if I lost you I should always love you,
whatever happened."
Again she looked up into his face with her glistening eyes. It was not
anger she saw there now, but an expression of bewilderment and of pain.
"Last of all, they tempted me with love itself. The treacherous tyrants
deceived and intimidated the Pope--the good and saintly Pope--and
through him they told me that your arrest was certain, your life in
danger, and nothing could save you from your present peril but that I
should denounce you for your past offences. The phantom of conspiracy
rose up before me, and I remembered my father, doomed to life-long exile
and a lonely death. It was my dark hour, dearest, and when they promised
me--faithfully promised me--that your life should be spared...."
A faint sound came from the bedroom. Roma heard it, but Rossi, in the
tumult of his emotion, heard nothing.
"I know what you will say, dear--that you would have given your life a
hundred times rather than save it at the loss of all you hold so dear.
But I am no heroine, David. I am only a woman who loves you, and I could
not see you die."
He felt his soul swell with love and forgiveness, and he wanted to sob
like a child, but Roma went on, and without trying to keep back her
tears.
"That's all, dear. Now you know everything. It is not your fault that
the love you have brought home to me is dead. I hoped that before you
came home I might die too. I think my soul must be dead already. I do
not hope for pardon, but if your great heart could pardon me...."