Several times she had been moved to tears as
she listened to Calyste's promises; and she suffered him to
commiserate her for being bound to an evil genius, a man as false as
Conti. More than once she related to him the misery and anguish she
had gone through in Italy, when she first became aware that she was
not alone in Conti's heart. On this subject Camille had fully informed
Calyste and given him several lectures on it, by which he profited.
"I," he said, "will love you only, you absolutely. I have no triumphs
of art, no applause of crowds stirred by my genius to offer you; my
only talent is to love you; my honor, my pride are in your
perfections. No other woman can have merit in my eyes; you have no
odious rivalry to fear. You are misconceived and wronged, but I know
you, and for every misconception, for every wrong, I will make you
feel my comprehension day by day."
She listened to such speeches with bowed head, allowing him to kiss
her hands, and admitting silently but gracefully that she was indeed
an angel misunderstood.
"I am too humiliated," she would say; "my past has robbed the future
of all security.
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