"
"Yes, I knew all about that," rejoined de Sigognac, "for Isabelle
told me some time ago her mother's history, and spoke of the ring; but
without attaching any importance to the fact of her illustrious origin.
It is very evident, however, from the nobility and delicacy of her
nature, without any other proof, that princely blood flows in her veins;
and also the refined, pure, elevated type of her beauty testifies to
her descent. But what a terrible fatality that this cursed Vallombreuse
should turn out to be her brother! There is a dead body between us
now--a stream of blood separates us--and yet, I could not save her
honour in any other way. Unhappy mortal that I am! I have myself created
the obstacle upon which my love is wrecked, and killed my hopes of
future bliss with the very sword that defended the purity of the woman I
adore. In guarding her I love, I have put her away from me forever. How
could I go now and present myself to Isabelle with blood-stained hands?
Alas! that the blood which I was forced to shed in her defence should
have been her brother's. Even if she, in her heavenly goodness, could
forgive me, and look upon me without a feeling of horror, the prince,
her father, would repulse and curse me as the murderer of his only son.
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