"No—no," she cried, "do not go ... he will kill thee, I say ... do not go...."
"I must," he said firmly. "Dear heart, I entreat thee let me go."
"No—no ... think but a moment ... think!... My love?... is it naught to thee?... Has my kiss left thee cold?... Do not leave me, dear lord ... do not leave me yet ... not just yet ... now that I know what happiness can mean. I have been so lonely all my life.... Love hath come to me at last ... love and happiness.... I am young—I want both.... Dear lord, if thou lovest me canst leave me desolate?..."
"If I love thee!"
There was so much longing in the one brief phrase, such passion and such tenderness, that all her hopes revived. One more effort and she felt sure that she would conquer. Fever was in her veins now, the walls of the studio swam before her eyes; she fell on her knees for she could no longer stand, but her arms encircled him, clinging to him with all her might. Her face, lifted up to his, was swimming in tears, her golden hair escaping from its trammels fell in a glowing mass down her shoulders.
"I love thee," she murmured, "canst leave me now, dear lord.... If thou goest now 'tis for ever ... think, oh think! just for one moment ... the Cæsar restored to power will part me from thee ... even if anon in his madness he doth not kill thee. If thou goest 'tis for ever.... Think on it ... think on it ere thou goest.... My love ... my love, go not from me, and leave me desolate.... Dear lord, but think on it—of the kisses thou wilt taste from my lips—the ecstasies thou wilt find in my arms!... Thine am I—thine my heart that loves thee—my body that worships thee—my every thought is thine.... Go not from me ... not just now till thou hast felt once more the full savour of my love."
Her arms round his knees, and she was exquisitely beautiful, exquisite in her whole-hearted love, her whole-hearted abnegation—she, a proud Roman lady kneeling at his feet, her full red lips asking for a kiss.
He stood with his face buried in his hands.
"Oh God! my God!" he murmured, "do not forsake me now!"
The thunder crashed overhead while a human soul fought its desperate fight for truth and eternal life. A vivid flash of lightning lit up the white-washed walls of the studio, and to the poor fighting soul, tortured with temptation, with longing and with passion, there came in that swift bright flash a vision of long ago.