She was present to my thoughts; I formed my excuse from the
first object that presented itself; I accused her with doing what I
meant to have done, and as I designed to have given her the ribbon,
asserted she had given it to me. When she appeared, my heart was
agonized, but the presence of so many people was more powerful than my
compunction. I did not fear punishment, but I dreaded shame: I dreaded
it more than death, more than the crime, more than all the world. I
would have hid myself in the center of the earth: invincible shame
bore down every other sentiment; shame alone caused all my
impudence, and in proportion as I became criminal, the fear of
discovery rendered me intrepid. I felt no dread but that of being
detected, of being publicly, and to my face, declared a thief, liar,
and calumniator; an unconquerable fear of this overcame every other
sensation. Had I been left to myself, I should infallibly have
declared the truth. Or if M. de la Roque had taken me aside, and said-
"Do not injure this poor girl; if you are guilty own it,"- I am
convinced I should instantly have thrown myself at his feet; but
they intimidated, instead of encouraging me. I was hardly out of my
childhood, or rather, was yet in it. It is also just to make some
allowance for my age. In youth, dark, premeditated villany is more
criminal. than in a riper age, but weaknesses are much less so; my
fault was truly nothing more; and I am less afflicted at the deed
itself than for its consequences.
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