ever dare speak to
him--even to come near hint--let the steward hang me up by the wrists,
and whip me, like the slave which I deserve to be!... And then shall
I soon grow old and ugly with grief, and--there will be no more danger
then, dear Wulf, will there, from this accursed face of mine? Only
promise me that, and--There he is calling you! Don't let him come in
and see me!--I cannot bear it! Go to him, quick, and tell him all.--No,
don't tell him yet....'

And she sank down again on the floor, as Wulf went out murmuring to
himself--

'Poor child! poor child! well for thee this clay if thou wert dead, and
at the bottom of Hela!'

And Pelagia heard what he said.

Gradually, amid sobs and tears, and stormy confusion of impossible hopes
and projects, those words took root in her mind, and spread, till they
filled her whole heart and brain.

'Well for me if I were dead?'

And she rose slowly.

'Well for me if I were dead? And why not? Then it would indeed be
all settled. There would be no more danger from poor little Pelagia
then....'

She went slowly, firmly, proudly, into the well-known chamber.... She
threw herself upon the bed, and covered the pillow with kisses. Her eye
fell on the Amal's sword, which hung across the bed's-head, after the
custom of Gothic warriors. She seized it, and took it down, shuddering.

'Yes!.... Let it be with this, if it must be. And it must be. I cannot
bear it! Anything but shame! To have fancied all my life--vain fool that
I was!--that every one loved and admired me, and to find that they were
despising me, hating me, all along! Those students at the lecture-room
door told me I was despised. The old monk told me so--Fool that I was!
I forgot it next day!--For he--he loved me still!--All--how could I
believe them, till his own lips had said it?.... Intolerable!.... And
yet women as bad as I am have been honoured--when they were dead. What
was that song which I used to sing about Epicharis, who hung herself in
the litter, and Leaina, who bit out her tongue, lest the torture should
drive them to betray their lovers? There used to be a statue of Leaina,
they say, at Athens,--a lioness without a tongue.... And whenever I sang
the song, the theatre used to rise, and shout, and call them noble and
blessed.... I never could tell why then; but I know now!--I know now!
Perhaps they may call me noble, after all. At least, they may say "She
was a--a--but she dare die for the man she loved!