I know that I am doomed; death is to me
As certain as that thou, ungrateful fair,
Dead at thy feet shouldst see me lying,
ere
My heart repented of its love for thee.
If buried in oblivion I should be,
Bereft of life, fame, favour, even there
It would be found that I thy image bear
Deep graven in my breast for all to see.
This like some holy relic do I prize
To save me from the fate my truth entails,
Truth that to thy hard heart
its vigour owes.
Alas for him that under lowering skies,
In peril o’er a trackless ocean
sails,
Where neither friendly port
nor pole-star shows.”
Anselmo praised this second sonnet too, as he had
praised the first; and so he went on adding link after
link to the chain with which he was binding himself
and making his dishonour secure; for when Lothario
was doing most to dishonour him he told him he was
most honoured; and thus each step that Camilla descended
towards the depths of her abasement, she mounted,
in his opinion, towards the summit of virtue and fair
fame.
It so happened that finding herself on one occasion
alone with her maid, Camilla said to her, “I
am ashamed to think, my dear Leonela, how lightly
I have valued myself that I did not compel Lothario
to purchase by at least some expenditure of time that
full possession of me that I so quickly yielded him
of my own free will. I fear that he will think
ill of my pliancy or lightness, not considering the
irresistible influence he brought to bear upon me.”
“Let not that trouble you, my lady,” said
Leonela, “for it does not take away the value
of the thing given or make it the less precious to
give it quickly if it be really valuable and worthy
of being prized; nay, they are wont to say that he
who gives quickly gives twice.”
“They say also,” said Camilla, “that
what costs little is valued less.”
“That saying does not hold good in your case,”
replied Leonela, “for love, as I have heard
say, sometimes flies and sometimes walks; with this
one it runs, with that it moves slowly; some it cools,
others it burns; some it wounds, others it slays;
it begins the course of its desires, and at the same
moment completes and ends it; in the morning it will
lay siege to a fortress and by night will have taken
it, for there is no power that can resist it; so what
are you in dread of, what do you fear, when the same
must have befallen Lothario, love having chosen the
absence of my lord as the instrument for subduing
you? and it was absolutely necessary to complete then
what love had resolved upon, without affording the
time to let Anselmo return and by his presence compel
the work to be left unfinished; for love has no better
agent for carrying out his designs than opportunity;
and of opportunity he avails himself in all his feats,
especially at the outset. All this I know well
myself, more by experience than by hearsay, and some
