She turned her great dark eye on him and said a single word:
"Thyself?"
But with wonderful magnanimity and tenderness.
"I am a man, and have no child to take care of."
"Ah!" said she, and his words seemed to animate her face with a desire to live. He lashed the image to her side. Then with the hope of life she lost something of her heroic calm; not much: her body trembled a little, but not her eye.
The ship was now so low in the water that by using an oar as a lever he could slide her into the waves.
"Come," said he, "while yet there is time."
She turned her great Roman eyes, wet now, upon him. "Poor youth!—God forgive me!—My child!" And he launched her on the surge, and with his oar kept her from being battered against the ship.
A heavy hand fell on him; a deep sonorous voice sounded in his ear: "'Tis well. Now come with me."
It was the gigantic friar.