to me!"

Rosabella held the flower fast.

"Ask for it what thou wilt. If a throne can purchase it, I will pay
that price, or perish. Rosabella, give me that flower!"

She stole one look at the handsome suppliant and dared not hazard a
second.

"My repose, my happiness, my life--nay, even my glory, all depend on
the possession of that little flower. Let that be mine, and here I
solemnly renounce all else which the world calls precious."

The flower trembled in her snowy hand. Her fingers clasped it less
firmly.

"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