Dost thou
boast that thou knowest the heart of woman? Go to, thou more than
fool! The heart of woman containeth all things, good and evil; and
knowest thou then all that is?
Donna Faustina was no angel. She had not that lofty calmness which
we attribute to the angelic character. She was very young, utterly
inexperienced and ignorant of the world. The idea which over-
towers all other ideas was the first which had taken hold upon
her, and under its strength she was like a flower before the wind.
She was not naturally of the heroic type either, as Corona
d'Astrardente had been, and perhaps was still, capable of
sacrifice for the ideal of duty, able to suffer torment rather
than debase herself by yielding, strong to stem the torrent of a
great passion until she had the right to abandon herself to its
mighty flood. Faustina was a younger and a gentler woman, not
knowing what she did from the moment her heart began to dictate
her actions, willing, above all, to take the suggestion of her
soul as a command, and, because she knew no evil, rejoicing in an
abandonment which might well have terrified one who knew the
world.
She already loved Anastase intensely. Under the circumstances of
his farewell, the startling effect of the announcement of a
revolution, the necessity under which, as a soldier, he found
himself of leaving her instantly in order to face a real danger,
with his first kiss warm upon her lips, and with the frightful
conviction that if he left her it might be the last--under all the
emotions brought about by these things, half mad with love and
anxiety, it was not altogether wonderful that she acted as she
did.
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