"Now I understand.

Pity is the impulse that has urged you--pity for my loneliness, is't not, Hortensia ?" "I'll not deny that without the pity there might not have been the courage.

Why should I--since it is a pity that gives you no offense, a pity that is rooted firmly in--in love for you, my Justin ?" He set his hands upon her shoulders, and with glowing eyes regarded her.
"Ah, sweet!" said he, "you make me very, very proud." And then his arms dropped again limply to his sides.

He sighed, and shook his head drearily.

"And yet--reflect.