"Hopes, Sir!" said Rose, "Hopes?--Well, I must not be ungrateful, and I thank you for this act at least. Am I to consider myself at liberty then, to quit my chamber? Am I to be no longer gaolered by my own maid?"
"You are free as air," replied Chazeul. "Come this moment if you will, and try; and let me see the man that dares prevent you. But ere we go," he continued with the same soft tone in which he had at first spoken, "forgive me for commenting, one moment, on a word you used just now, or rather on the manner in which that word was spoken. It was, hopes! You seem to think that I did not really hope to win you; or perhaps mean that those hopes were more of your wealth, than your person?"
"How can I think otherwise?" asked Rose, fixing her beautiful eyes upon him. "Is there nothing in your heart, Monsieur de Chazeul, which tells you that it is so?"
"No, on my life," he answered; "but I know what it is you mean, and will admit that you have had good cause, to judge as you do. I am ambitious, Rose d'Albret, and wealth with me is an object, as the means of ambition. But there may be other feelings in my heart besides, and there are."
"I doubt it not," replied the lady; "but what I doubt is. Sir, that those feelings have ever been mine. Perhaps I doubt, moreover," she added slowly, and with emphasis, "that Monsieur de Chazeul may not be inclined to sacrifice the gentle and the better feelings and affections of his heart, at the shrine of that devouring God--ambition."
"It is that, I meant," replied Chazeul; "of that I wish to speak. I know you think that I do not love you, that I have not loved you, that I have loved others, that--"
"Nay, nay," cried Rose, waving her hand; "do not enter upon such things, Sir. I cannot, must not hear them."
"You shall hear nothing that can offend you," replied Chazeul calmly. "But in simple justice, you must listen to a word or two in my own defence, as you have undoubtedly listened to accusations against me. I do not say that you will exculpate me, even if I could tell you all exactly as it occurred, which I cannot, which I ought not to do. You would find me faulty, very faulty still. I acknowledge it. I do not, even to myself, acquit myself: I have done wrong, much that is wrong; and many a time when you have seen me grave and thoughtful, it has been when I was meditating how I might make atonement. Yes," he added, seeing a doubtful expression come over Rose's face; "and many a time when I have seemed most light and gay, idle and heartless, it has been but as a cloak to cover from myself and others the bitterness within."
"But how easy"--said Rose, "how easy to make atonement! how easy to do justice!"
"Not so easy as you imagine," answered Chazeul; "for, in truth, it was impossible. I am not attempting, remember always, to exculpate myself: far from it. I acknowledge myself guilty; but some extenuation may be found in many circumstances; in education at a libertine court, in the habits and customs of the day, in the conduct of others, in temptations that I will not give to your ear. Yet I have loved you, and loved you truly; but I see the very mention of it offends you, and therefore I will say no more upon this head. I have set free my heart, and it is enough. Judge of me as you will--harshly if you be so disposed; but still I must have the advantage of my confession in your opinion, and that is something gained."