"A lie."
"Your probity?"
"A lie."
"Your piety?"
"A lie."
"You pass for a saint, and you would be a demon! You are a boaster! No; there is no man quite cunning enough, bold enough, thus to insinuate himself into the confidence and respect of men. It would be a frightful defiance cast in the face of society."
"I am this man! I have thrown this taunt, this defiance, in the teeth of society!" cried the monster, in an access of frightful pride.
"Jacques! Jacques! do not speak thus," said Cecily. "You will make me mad!"
"My head for your love—do you wish it?"
"Oh! this is love, indeed!" cried Cecily. "Here—take my poniard; you disarm me."