"And you have quite forgiven my transgression?"
"Your transgression?" repeated Rosabella, with a faint smile; "yes,
if it was a transgression, I have quite forgiven it. Dying people
ought to pardon those who have trespassed against them, in order
that they, in their turn, may be pardoned their trespasses against
Heaven--and I am dying; I feel it."
"Signora!"
"Nay, 'tis past a doubt. It's true, I have quitted my sick-bed
since yesterday; but I know well that I am soon to return to it,
never to leave it more. And therefore--therefore, I now ask your
pardon, signor, for the vexation which I was obliged to cause to you
the last time we met."
Flodoardo replied not.
"Will you not forgive me? You must be very difficult to appease--
very revengeful!"
Flodoardo replied not.
"Will you refuse my offered hand? Shall all be forgotten?"
"Forgotten, lady? Never, never--every word and look of yours is
stamped on my memory, never to be effaced. I cannot forget a
transaction in which YOU bore a part: I cannot forget the scene
that passed between us, every circumstance is too precious and
sacred. As to PARDON"--he took her extended hand and pressed it
respectfully to his lips--"I would to Heaven, dear lady, that you
had in truth injured me much, that I might have much to forgive you.
Alas! I have at present nothing to pardon."
Both were now silent. At length Rosabella resumed the conversation
by saying--"You have made a long absence from Venice; did you travel
far?"
"I did.
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