"At least, you will let Amalickiah go?"
"Not even that, my Zorabel. As long as he is free the Nephite republic is threatened."
"Then you will do nothing?'' And her face was terrible.
"I cannot."
"Oh, God, have I come to this? What is this insensate thing that I have poured out the lavishness of my soul on? I thought it was a man," she flung up her arms despairingly.
"As I am a man I cannot do this thing you ask me. Forgive me, Zorabel," he choked.
"I have wasted my wealth of love; there is none left. What has it brought me? I have torn my heart out and it has been devoured by the God of War, but unlike the miserable victim that is sacrificed, my body shall live on and on, after the heart has gone from it."
"Zorabel, you are killing me."
"I am already dead. No man shall again thrill me with his touch nor will he put me on the rack. Henceforth, I have no master. As for you," she had worked herself into a paroxysm of fury, "never let me see your face again." In her tempestuous rage she seized the lamp and dashed it on the floor.
Darkness closed in, and out of the blackness Moroni heard a voice that ordered him to "Go." He groped blindly around but instinct told him that if he touched her he would be lost, nor would he be the first man that betrayed his country for a woman. Staggering, he turned and stumbled out. Like a drunken man he descended to the street. Even then had he known that Zorabel lay on the floor shaken with convulsive sobs he might have turned back. But destiny guided him on.