May Gaston had
indeed opened his eyes to some degree, but here again, as she showed him
continued favour, he found good excuse for dwelling on the interest which
inspired rather than on the frankness which characterised her utterance.
She had bidden him be himself; then to her that was a thing worth being.
As he believed himself able to conquer all external obstacles in his
path, so he vaguely supposed that he could overcome and obliterate
anything there might be wrong in himself, or at any rate that he could so
outweigh it by a more prodigal display of his gifts as to reduce it to
utter insignificance; try as he might to see him self as she saw him, he
could not fully understand the gravity of her objections. And anyhow,
grave as she thought them, she was his friend; at the cost of defying,
perhaps of losing, her friends, she elected to be his friend.
To the appeal of this generosity his emotions responded passionately; now
he worshipped his Empress among women for more than her grace, her
stateliness, or her beauty; he loved her for her courage and her loyalty.
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