[pg 227] “Monica,” I said, “what has happened? You—”
The girl flung up her head, and though there was a glitter of tears in her eyes and her face was white under the moon, she stared defiance. “Don't speak to me,” she said. “I never wish to see you again. I'm going to marry the Duke of Carmona.”
XXVIII
Let Your Heart Speak
Men do not kill themselves for such things. Fools, or cowards, or children may; but not men who are worthy the name. Yet there was no joy of life left in me, as I went out of the Alcázar garden, having had my answer.
Love cannot die in an hour, and I loved Monica still, though I said that she was not the girl to whom I had dedicated my soul in worship.
She had let me follow her, only to say at last: “I never wish to see you again. I'm going to marry the Duke of Carmona.”
After all, she had proved herself a docile daughter. She had seen what the house of a grandee of Spain can be like. She had seen the Blanca Laguna pearl. Poor child of eighteen years, brought up to know poverty and to loathe it; was I to let my love turn to hate because she was not an angel, but a woman like others?