Book The Second - Chapter 5 The Assassin

Scarcely had she reached her chamber ere Rosabella repented her
having acted so courageously. It was cruel in her, she thought, to
have given him so harsh an answer. She recollected with what
hopeless and melancholy looks the poor thunderstruck youth had
followed her steps as she turned to leave him. She fancied that she
saw him stretched despairing on the earth, his hair dishevelled, his
eyes filled with tears. She heard him term her the murderess of his
repose, pray for death as his only refuge; and she saw him with
every moment approach towards the attainment of his prayer through
the tears which he shed on her account. Already she heard those
dreadful words--"Flodoardo is no more." Already she saw the
sympathising multitude weep round the tomb of him whom all the
virtuous loved, and whom the wicked dreaded; whom all his friends
adored, and whom even his enemies admired.

"Alas! alas!" cried she, "this was but a wretched attempt to play
the heroine. Already does my resolution fail me. Ah, Flodoardo! I
meant not what I said. I love you--love you now, and must love you
always, though Camilla may chide, and though my good uncle may hate
me."

In a few days after this interview she understood that an
extraordinary alteration had taken place in Flodoardo's manner and
appearance; that he had withdrawn himself from all general society;
and that when the solicitations of his intimate friends compelled
him to appear in their circle, his spirits seemed evidently
depressed by the weight of an unconquerable melancholy.