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my lord, for your love was sick unto death. Faith, that is
the way you were loved.”
“No, Marie, my love is not dead, it is risen again. Hear
me,dear heart,hear me! for I have been stricken with
blindness and with a mad distemper, but now, Marie, I kneel
at your feet, and look, I woo you again with prayers and
beseechings. Alack, my love has been like a wilful child, but
now it is grown to man’s estate. Pray give yourself
trustingly to its arms, and I swear to you by the cross and the
honor of a gentleman that it will never let you go again.”
“Peace, peace, what help is in that!”
“Pray, pray believe me, Marie!”
“By the living God, I believe you. There is no shred
nor thread of doubt in my soul. I believe you fully, I
believe that your love is great and strong, but mine you have
strangled with your own hands. It is a corpse, and however
loudly your heart may call, you can never wake it again.”
“Say not so, Marie, for those of your sex—I know there
are among you those who when they love a man, even
though he spurn them with his foot, come back ever and
ever again; for their love is proof against all wounds.”
“’T is so indeed, my lord, and I—I am such a woman,
I would have you know, but you—are not the right kind
of man.”
May God in his mercy keep you, my dearly beloved sister,
and be to you a good and generous giver of all those things
which are requisite and necessary, as well for the body as
for the soul, that I wish you from my heart.
To you, my dearly beloved sister, my one faithful friend
from the time of my childhood, will I now relate what
fine fruits I have of my elevation, which may it be cursed
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