“And you were sitting before the fire—”
“Even as now.”
“Ay, and I was lying at your feet, and your dear hands were playing with my hair.”
“Yes, then you loved me.”
“Oh, even as now! And you—you bent down over me and wept till the tears streamed down your face, and you kissed me and looked at me with such tender earnestness, it seemed you were saying a prayer for me in your heart, and then all of a sudden—do you remember?—you bit my neck.”
“Ah, merciful God, what love I did bear to you, my lord! When I heard the clanging of your spurs on the steps the blood pounded in my ears, and I trembled from head to foot, and my hands were cold as ice. Then when you came in and pressed me in your arms—”
“De grace, madam!”
“Why, it’s naught but dead memories of an amour that is long since extinguished.”
“Alas, extinguished, madam? Nay, it smoulders hotter than ever.”
“Ah, no, ’tis covered by the cold ashes of too many days.”