"Danger of grief," she repeated, "of lifelong sorrow—for leaving you—here—alone.... Because, once, I gave my heart to you...."
"You were only Thusis, then," I said, steadying my voice and senses with an effort.
"Am I less, now, in your eyes?" She lifted her head and looked at me.
"You are the Duchess of Naxos."
She smiled faintly: "What was it you once said to me about revolutions?—about the necessity for purity of motive and absolute unselfishness for those who revolted against tyranny?"
I was silent.
"Michael?"
"Yes."
"How can I incite my people to revolt unless my motives are entirely free from selfish interest?"
"Are they not?"