She was silent,
thinking, perhaps, that any speech might be painful to her companion.
But Nina could not restrain herself from a question, "What will they
say of me?"
"No one, dear, shall say anything."
"But he knows."
"I know not what he knows, but his knowledge, whatever it be, is only
food for his love. You may be sure of his love, Nina--quite sure, quite
sure. You may take my word for that. If that has been your doubt, you
have doubted wrongly."
Not all the healing medicines of Mercury, not wine from the flasks of
the gods, could have given Nina life and strength as did those words
from her rival's lips. All her memory of his offences against her had
again gone in her thought of her own sin. Would he forgive her and
still love her? Yes; she was a weak woman--very weak; but she had that
one strength which is sufficient to atone for all feminine weakness--
she could really love; or rather, having loved, she could not cease
to love. Anger had no effect on her love, or was as water thrown on
blazing coal, which makes it burn more fiercely.
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