The bough swayed up and down; now Osra's gleaming hair, and now her cheek, and always her eyes were seen through the leaves. And presently the Marquis heard a voice asking:
"Does heaven forgive unasked?"
"Indeed, no," he said, wondering.
"And," she said, "are we poor mortals kinder than heaven?"
The Marquis rose, and took a step or two towards where the bough swayed up and down, and then knelt again.
"A great sinner," said he, "cannot believe himself forgiven."
"Then he wrongs the power of which he seeks forgiveness; for forgiveness is divine."
"Then I will ask it, and, if I obtain it, I shall die happy."
Again the bough swayed: and Osra said:
"Nay, if you will die, you may die unforgiven."