"Will you be silent?" she cried. "Shame on you, Lord Chandos, to use such words. You have a beautiful and beloved wife at home to whom all your love and fidelity belong. If you say one more such word to me I will never see you again."
"But, Leone, it seems so very hard; you might let me call at times and see you."
"No, I cannot, I cannot trust myself, even if I could trust you. I have had no other husband, no other love; you have married. I would not trust myself; my love is as great now as ever it was, but it shall not run away with me; it shall not be my master. I will master it. You must not come near me."
"But, surely, if I meet you in the street, you will not ask me to pass you by?" he said.
"No; if we meet quite by chance, quite by accident, I will always speak to you. Ah, Lance," she added, with a smile, "I know you so well, I know every look in your eyes; you are thinking to yourself you will often see me by accident. You must not; such honor as you have left me let me keep."
"If this is to be our last interview, for some time, at least," he continued, "tell me, Leone, how is it that you have become so famous?"
"Yes, I will tell you all about that; I am rather proud of my power. It is not a long story, and it dates from the day on which your mother sent me that letter."
She told him all her studies, her struggles, her perseverance, her success, finally her crowning by fame.
"It is like a romance," he said.
"Yes, only it is true," she replied.