It is not true that your kisses hurt me--it shall not be
true---"
"You do not mean it, dear," replied Giovanni, sadly. "I know how
true it is."
"It shall not be true. Am I a devil to hurt you so? Was it all
your fault? Was I not wrong too? Indeed--"
"No, my beloved. There is nothing wrong in you. If you do not love
me--"
"I do. I will, in spite of myself."
"You mean it, darling--I know. You are good enough, even for that.
But you cannot. It must be all my doing, now."
"I must," cried Corona, passionately. "Unless I love you, I shall
die. I was wrong, too, you shall let me say it. Was I not mad to
do the things I did? What man would not have suspected? Would a
man be a man at all, if he did not watch the woman he loves? Would
love be love without jealousy when there seems to be cause for it?
Should I have married you, had I thought that you would be so
careless as to let me do such things without interfering? Was it
not my fault when I came back that night and would not tell you
what had happened? Was it not madness to ask you to trust me,
instead of telling you all? And yet," she turned her face away,
"and yet, it hurt me so!"
"You shall not blame yourself, Corona. It was all my fault."
"Come and sit here, beside me.
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