After the horrors of the night; after undergoing perils so imminent from this man, to be summoned to an interview like this; to find Pleyel fraught with a belief that, instead of having chosen death as a refuge from the violence of this man, I had hugged his baseness to my heart, had sacrificed for him my purity, my spotless name, my friendships, and my fortune! that even madness could engender accusations like these was not to be believed.
What evidence could possibly suggest conceptions so wild?
After the unlooked-for interview with Carwin in my chamber, he retired.

Could Pleyel have observed his exit?
It was not long after that Pleyel himself entered.

Did he build on this incident, his odious conclusions?
Could the long series of my actions and sentiments grant me no exemption from suspicions so foul?
Was it not more rational to infer that Carwin's designs had been illicit; that my life had been endangered by the fury of one whom, by some means, he had discovered to be an assassin and robber; that my honor had been assailed, not by blandishments, but by violence?
He has judged me without hearing.

He has drawn from dubious appearances, conclusions the most improbable and unjust.

He has loaded me with all outrageous epithets.