“How can you ask that?”
“Ah! yes. Forgive me. I—I know—you risked your life to save mine. You—”
“No, no,” he cried, impatiently. “Don’t let’s talk of the past. Let us look at the future, and let us speak plainly. We are old friends enough for that, Princess.”
“Angelica,” she said, correcting him.
“Then—Angelica,” he said, pronouncing her Christian name for the first time. Then he hesitated and their eyes met. He saw in hers the light of unshed tears, and bit his lip. His own heart was too full for mere words.
“Jack,” she faltered, raising her hand and placing it upon his arm, “I don’t quite understand you. You are not yourself this evening.” The bar of golden sunlight caught her wrist and caused the diamonds in her bracelet to flash with a thousand fires.
“No, Princess—I—I mean Angelica. I am not. I wish to speak quite plainly. It is this. If I remain here, in Florence, I shall commit the supreme folly of—of loving you.” She cast her eyes to the ground, flushed slightly and held her breath.
“This,” he went on, “must never happen for two reasons, first you are already married, and secondly, you are of Imperial birth, while I am a mere nobody, and a pauper at that.”
“I am married, it is true!” she cried, bitterly. “But God knows, what a hollow mockery my marriage has been! God knows how I have suffered, compelled as I am to act a living lie! You despise me for marrying Ferdinand, a man I could never love. Yes, you are right, you are quite—”
“I do not despise, you, Angelica. I have always pitied you,” he interrupted. “I knew well that you did not love the Prince, but were compelled to sacrifice yourself.”