'You're blunt!' she said, and uttered a little laugh that was hard and unpleasant.
He explained himself. 'You are my Lord Facino's wife.'
'Ah!' Her expression changed again. 'I knew we should have that. But if I were not? If I were not?' She faced him boldly, in a sudden eagerness that he deemed piteous.
The solemnity of his countenance increased. He looked straight before him. 'In all this idle world there is naught so idle as to consider what we might be if it were different.'
She had no answer for a while, and they rode a little way side by side in silence, her attendants following out of earshot.
'You'll forgive, I think, when I explain,' said she at last.
'Explain?' he asked her, mystified.
'That night in Milan ... the last time we spoke together. You thought I used you cruelly.'
'No more cruelly than I deserve to be used in a world where it is expected of a man that he shall be more sensible to beauty than to honour.'
'I knew it was honour made you harsh,' she said, and reached forth a hand to touch his own where it lay upon the pommel. 'I understood. I understand you better than you think, Bellarion. Could I have been angry with you then?'