whither my fall will follow
yours to all eternity! One word of kindness! Say one word! only one
word!"

She opened her mouth to answer him. He flung himself on his knees to
receive with adoration the word, possibly a tender one, which was on the
point of issuing from her lips. She said to him, "You are an assassin!"

The priest clasped her in his arms with fury, and began to laugh with an
abominable laugh.

"Well, yes, an assassin!" he said, "and I will have you. You will not
have me for your slave, you shall have me for your master. I will have
you! I have a den, whither I will drag you. You will follow me, you
will be obliged to follow me, or I will deliver you up! You must die, my
beauty, or be mine! belong to the priest! belong to the apostate! belong
to the assassin! this very night, do you hear? Come! joy; kiss me, mad
girl! The tomb or my bed!"

His eyes sparkled with impurity and rage. His lewd lips reddened the
young girl's neck. She struggled in his arms. He covered her with
furious kisses.

"Do not bite me, monster!" she cried. "Oh! the foul, odious monk! leave
me! I will tear out thy ugly gray hair and fling it in thy face by the
handful!"

He reddened, turned pale, then released her and gazed at her with a
gloomy air. She thought herself victorious, and continued,--

"I tell you that I belong to my Phoebus, that 'tis Phoebus whom I love,
that 'tis Phoebus who is handsome! you are old, priest! you are ugly!
Begone!"

He gave vent to a horrible cry, like the wretch to whom a hot iron is
applied. "Die, then!" he said, gnashing his teeth. She saw his terrible
look and tried to fly. He caught her once more, he shook her, he flung
her on the ground, and walked with rapid strides towards the corner
of the Tour-Roland, dragging her after him along the pavement by her
beautiful hands.

On arriving there, he turned to her,--

"For the last time, will you be mine?"

She replied with emphasis,--

"No!"

Then he cried in a loud voice,--

"Gudule! Gudule! here is the gypsy! take your vengeance!"

The young girl felt herself seized suddenly by the elbow. She looked.
A fleshless arm was stretched from an opening in the wall, and held her
like a hand of iron.

"Hold her well," said the priest; "'tis the gypsy escaped. Release her
not. I will go in search of the sergeants. You shall see her hanged."

A guttural laugh replied from the interior of the wall to these bloody
words--"Hah! hah! hah!"--The gy