"How," said Jocelyn, "hast broken the Duke's picture, lady!"
"Thou seest!" she answered.
"And must thou weep therefore?" said he a little bitterly. "Oh, be
comforted; 't was but a toy--soon will I get thee another."
"An thou bring me another, Joconde, that will I break also."
"Ha--thou didst break it--wilfully, then?"
"With this stone, Joconde."
"Wherefore, O wherefore?" he questioned eagerly.
"For that it was but painted toy, even as thou sayest!" she answered.
"Moreover, I--love not Duke Jocelyn."
"And't was for this thou didst break the picture?"
"Nay, 'twas because these painted features may never compare with the face
of him I love."
"And whom--whom dost thou love?" quoth he, in voice low and unsteady.
Speaking not, she pointed with slender finger down into the placid, stream.
Wondering, he bent to look and thus from the stilly water his mirrored
image looked back at him; now as he stooped so stooped she, and in this
watery mirror their glances met.
"Yolande?" he whispered.
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