nly knew how much I love you! What a heart is mine! Oh! what
desertion of all virtue! What desperate abandonment of myself! A doctor,
I mock at science; a gentleman, I tarnish my own name; a priest, I make
of the missal a pillow of sensuality, I spit in the face of my God! all
this for thee, enchantress! to be more worthy of thy hell! And you will
not have the apostate! Oh! let me tell you all! more still, something
more horrible, oh! Yet more horrible!...."

As he uttered these last words, his air became utterly distracted. He
was silent for a moment, and resumed, as though speaking to himself, and
in a strong voice,--

"Cain, what hast thou done with thy brother?"

There was another silence, and he went on--

"What have I done with him, Lord? I received him, I reared him, I
nourished him, I loved him, I idolized him, and I have slain him! Yes,
Lord, they have just dashed his head before my eyes on the stone of
thine house, and it is because of me, because of this woman, because of
her."

His eye was wild. His voice grew ever weaker; he repeated many times,
yet, mechanically, at tolerably long intervals, like a bell prolonging
its last vibration: "Because of her.--Because of her."

Then his tongue no longer articulated any perceptible sound; but
his lips still moved. All at once he sank together, like something
crumbling, and lay motionless on the earth, with his head on his knees.

A touch from the young girl, as she drew her foot from under him,
brought him to himself. He passed his hand slowly over his hollow
cheeks, and gazed for several moments at his fingers, which were wet,
"What!" he murmured, "I have wept!"

And turning suddenly to the gypsy with unspeakable anguish,--

"Alas! you have looked coldly on at my tears! Child, do you know that
those tears are of lava? Is it indeed true? Nothing touches when it
comes from the man whom one does not love. If you were to see me die,
you would laugh. Oh! I do not wish to see you die! One word! A single
word of pardon! Say not that you love me, say only that you will do it;
that will suffice; I will save you. If not--oh! the hour is passing. I
entreat you by all that is sacred, do not wait until I shall have turned
to stone again, like that gibbet which also claims you! Reflect that
I hold the destinies of both of us in my hand, that I am mad,--it is
terrible,--that I may let all go to destruction, and that there is
beneath us a bottomless abyss, unhappy girl,