She looked at him; she loved him well, and no homage to herself could
have moved her as this sacrifice for him had done.
"You think he will live?" she asked.
"They say it is sure. He may live on to old age. But how? My God! what a
death in life! And all for my sake, in my stead!"
She was silent several moments; then she raised her face, a little paler
than it had been, but with a passionless resolve set on it.
"Philip, we do not leave our debts unpaid. Go; tell him I will be his
wife."
"His wife--now! Venetia----"
"Go!" she said briefly. "Tell him what I say."
"But what a sacrifice! In your beauty, your youth--"
"He did not count cost. Are we less generous? Go--tell him."
He was told; and was repaid. Such a light of unutterable joy burned
through the misty agony of his eyes as never, it seemed to those who
saw, had beamed before in mortal eyes. He did not once hesitate at the
acceptance of her self-surrender; he only pleaded that the marriage
ceremony should pass between them that night.
There were notaries and many priests in the great ducal household; all
was done as he desired. She consented without wavering; she had passed
her word, she would not have withdrawn it if it had been a thousand
times more bitter in its fulfillment. The honor of her house was dearer
to her than any individual happiness. This man for them had lost peace,
health, joy, strength, every hope of life; to dedicate her own life to
him, as he had vainly prayed her when in the full glow and vigor of his
manhood, was the only means by which their vast debt to him could be
paid.
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