The countess stopped for a moment, as if gasping for breath. “Yes,” she said, “and you have still preserved this love in your heart⁠—one can only love once⁠—and did you ever see her again?”

“Never.”

“Never?”

“I never returned to the country where she lived.”

“To Malta?”

“Yes; Malta.”

“She is, then, now at Malta?”

“I think so.”

“And have you forgiven her for all she has made you suffer?”

“Her⁠—yes.”