Besides, it seems less vile to betray a country than to deceive a man you adore, who adores you in return.

We women are true as truth itself to those we love.

For them we would sacrifice the greatest cause.
Always I had known this, and I had thought that I could prove myself truer than the truest, if I ever loved.

Yet now I had betrayed my lover and sold his country; and, realising what I had done, as I hardly had realised it till this moment, I suffered torture in his arms.
Even if, by something like a miracle, we were saved from ruin, nothing on earth could wash the stain from my heart, which Raoul believed so good, so pure.
What can be more terrible for a woman than the secret knowledge that to hold a man's respect she must always keep one dark spot covered from his eyes?
Such a woman needs no future punishment.

She has all she deserves in this world.