at her feet, and
passionately snatching her hands from her face, he exclaimed, "Elise!
in this moment her spirit is hovering over us. She blesses this love
which she has already forgiven. Oh, if you only knew what I have
suffered for you, you would, at least, not be angry with me. You would
pardon me for the sake of what I have undergone."

"Have I then not suffered also?" she asked, turning her face, covered
with tears, toward him.

"Oh! leave me here at your feet," he continued. "Look upon me as
a poor pilgrim who has wandered to the holy Sepulchre in order to
cleanse his heart of its sins at the sanctuary by sincere repentance
and prayers for forgiveness. You are my sanctuary, to you my heart
bends; the poor pilgrim has come to you to confess and be shrived
before he dies. Will you, my Madonna, hear him? May I tell you what I
have endured, how much I have suffered?"

"Speak," she said, half conscious, but eagerly listening to the music
of his voice. "Tell me what you have suffered, that I may forget my
own sufferings when I gave you up."

"Oh!" he continued, with a shudder, "I shall never forget that fearful
moment when I became aware of the deception, and discovered that it
was not you, but Lodoiska, whom I held in my arms. A raving madness
seized me, which threatened my own life. Lodoiska turned aside the
dagger, and pronounced your name. That name recalled me to life, to
the knowledge of my crime. I submitted to the punishment which I had
merited, and which you had imposed upon me. I led Lodoiska to the
altar, at which I had hoped to see you. I made her my wife, and my
heart pronounced _your_ name, while my lips bound me to _her_. It was
a terrible hour, a fearful agony raged within me, and it has never
left me since. It was there, when Lodoiska pressed me to her heart. It
was present in the tumult of battle. Then, however, when death raged
around me, when destruction thundered from the enemy's cannon, then
I became cheerful, and the pang left me as I rushed amid the enemy's
ranks. But even death itself retreated before me--I found on the
battle-field only honor and fame, but not the object for which I
fought, not death. I lived to suffer and to expiate my crime toward
you, Elise. But one hope sustained me, the hope one day to fall at
your feet, to clasp your knees, and to sue for forgiveness."

Completely overcome by his own passionate description, he bowed his
head on her knees, and wept aloud. He had suc