though I knew he was but over young and gay, I despised his fault. I had no understanding of those who fly hither and thither sowing despair and sorrow to mark their passing. When I set my affections I root them for ever.
'But alas! my friend, she did not see in him anything, only her desire. I knew it was my duty to save her—but how? She would not heed my warnings, she would not believe he was only amusing himself with her, and she was falling more desperately in love every day. At last one night an inspiration came to me—I would play with him as he was doing with her. I would win him and then fling him aside, I would teach him a bitter lesson, and give him the tears he had given to others. But in doing so I knew I should sacrifice my friendship with my dear friend: she would never love me again. Well, I saw it had to be. I came down next morning with the intention of fulfilling my plans, and I found my friend standing with a full-blown rose in her hand. Her lover was leaning in at the open window. Even so early he had come to weave his dangerous net about her. "That is the rose of my heart I have given to you," I heard him say.
