"You hear me, Rosabella? I kneel at your feet; and am I then in
vain a beggar?"
The word "beggar" recalled to her memory Camilla and her prudent
counsels. "What am I doing?" she said to herself. "Have I
forgotten my promise, my resolution? Fly, Rosabella, fly, or this
hour makes you faithless to yourself and duty."
She tore the flower to pieces, and threw it contemptuously on the
ground.
"I understand you, Flodoardo," said she; "and having understood you,
will never suffer this subject to be renewed. Here let us part, and
let me not again be offended by a similar presumption. Farewell!"
She turned from him with disdain, and left Flodoardo rooted to his
place with sorrow and astonishment.
CHAPTER V: THE ASSASSIN.
Scarcely had she reached her chamber ere Rosabella repented her
having acted so courageously. It was cruel in her, she thought, to
have given him so harsh an answer. She recollected with what
hopeless and melancholy looks the poor thunderstruck youth had
followed her steps as she turned to leave him. She fancied that she
saw him stretched despairing on the earth, his hair dishevelled, his
eyes filled with tears. She heard him term her the murderess of his
repose, pray for death as his only refuge; and she saw him with
every moment approach towards the attainment of his prayer through
the tears which he shed on her account. Already she heard those
dreadful words--"Flodoardo is no more.
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