d, "I do not know. My father will do all he can. My
father is a changed man in these hours. He weeps when he sees me, poor
soul. But it is not sure we can break the marriage, after all."

"The Pope can break the marriage," Dante said.

Beatrice shook her head. "The Pope can do what he will, but he may not
choose to tamper with a sacrament for the sake of two young lovers. It
is all the world and its sober governance against two young lovers. It
is all my fault, Dante."

Dante interrupted her with a groan. "Oh, my love--" he said, and said no
more, for her look stayed him.

The girl went on, sadly: "If I had not yielded when I thought you dead,
yielded in obedience, yielded in despair, we should be free now, you and
I, to change many sweet thoughts into sweet words. But we are not so
free, and it may be that we never shall be so free."

Dante compelled himself to speak bravely, combating her alarms.
"Dearest, have no fear, have no doubt. Why, I will fight this Simone.
Never smile at my slightness. All these weeks I have labored to make
myself master of my sword, and I have mastered it. I tested my courage
and my skill yesterday. Of my courage it is not fitting for me to speak,
but my skill is a thing outside myself that I may speak of, and I found
it sufficient. I will fight Simone, I will kill Simone, you will be
free."

Beatrice sighed. "Are we right to talk so lightly of life and death, you
and I? Are we not wasting time? I sent for you to tell you that if I can
never be yours, I will never be another's. I have no right to kill my
body, that I know, but neither have I the right to kill my soul; and of
the two sins I will choose the lesser, and sooner kill myself than lie
in loveless arms. I gave myself to you, my lover, that night, when we
changed vows in the moonlight. I will kiss no other man's lips, I will
share no other man's bed. I am your wife by the laws of God, and I will
die before I dishonor my bridal."

Dante took her hand and held it in his. "Oh, if Heaven could grant me a
thousand hearts to house my love in and a thousand tongues to give my
love utterance, I should still seem like a child stammering over its
alphabet when I tried to tell how I love you. All about me I seem to
hear the swell of mighty voices that thunder what my lips are too weak
to whisper, yet what they say is only as if a chorus of angels cried
aloud what I say beneath my breath, the three words that mean
everything--I love you!