ABLAMORE.
Ah! ah! You do not flee, because you think my old hands harmless! They have yet the strength to tear a secret out in spite of all [He seizes her arms.] And they could wrestle with all those you prefer…. [He twists her arms behind her head.] Ah! you will not speak!… There will yet come a time when all your soul shall spirt out like a clear spring, for woe….
ALLADINE.
No, no!