“You shall have this knowledge—he shall have it—and may it crush him down, down”——
“Stay!” I cried out, seizing his uplifted arm, “I will not listen—it is my father you curse.”
“Your father—I know it; but what was he to her?—to Aurora?—what was he to her? What was she to him?”
A flood of burning shame rushed over my face, and my eyes fell beneath the lurid scorn of his.
“Can you know this and not hate the traitorous gentile?” he said.
I covered my burning face, but could not answer.
“Look up! the fire of your Caloe blood is burning to waste; it should hurl vengeance on those who have heaped shame on it.”
“What, on my father?” I cried, struck with horror—“he is dying!”
“And without proof that you are his child?”
“Alas! yes.”