d herself to Our
Lord. While she was praying that her heart might be preserved from
all evil affection, she remembered that Amadour had often praised her
beauty, and that in spite of long illness it had not been impaired.
Being, therefore, more willing to injure her beauty than suffer it to
kindle an evil flame in the heart of an honourable gentleman, she took a
stone which lay in the chapel and struck herself a grievous blow on the
face so that her mouth, nose, and eyes were quite disfigured. Then,
in order that no one might suspect it to be of her own doing, she let
herself fall upon her face on leaving the chapel when summoned by the
Countess, and cried out loudly. The Countess coming thither found her
in this pitiful state, and forthwith caused her face to be dressed and
bandaged.
Then the Countess led her to her own apartment, and begged her to go
to her room and entertain Amadour until she herself had got rid of her
company. This Florida did, thinking that there were others with him.
But when she found herself alone with him, and the door closed upon her,
she was as greatly troubled as he was pleased. He thought that, by love
or violence, he would now have what he desired; so he spoke to her, and
finding that she made the same reply as before, and that even to save
her life she would not change her resolve, he was beside himself with
despair.
"Before God, Florida," he said to her, "your scruples shall not rob me
of the fruits of my labour. Since love, patience, and humble entreaty
are of no avail, I will spare no strength of mine to gain the boon, upon
which all its existence depends."
Florida saw that his eyes and countenance were altered exceedingly, so
that his complexion, naturally the fairest in the world, was now as red
as fire, and his look, usually so gentle and pleasant, had become as
horrible and furious as though fierce flames were blazing in his heart
and face. In his frenzy he seized her delicate, weak hands in his own
strong, powerful ones; and she, finding herself in such bondage that she
could neither defend herself nor fly, thought that her only chance was
to try whether he had not retained some traces of his former love, for
the sake of which he might forego his cruelty. She therefore said to
him--
"If you now look upon me, Amadour, in the light of an enemy, I entreat
you, by that pure love which I once thought was in your heart, to
hearken to me before you put me to torture."
Seein
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