"Listen!" said Jacques Ferrand, in a hoarse and broken voice, "listen! If I place my honour, my fortune, my life, at your mercy,—now, this very instant,—will you then believe I love you?"
"Your honour, your fortune, your life! I do not comprehend you."
"If I confide to you a secret which may bring me to the scaffold, will you then believe me?"
"You a criminal? You do but jest. What, then, of your austere life,—your piety,—your honesty?"
"All—all a lie!"
"You pass for a saint, and yet you boast of these iniquities! No, there is no man so craftily skilful, so fortunately bold, as thus to captivate the confidence and respect of men; that were, indeed, a fearful defiance cast in the teeth of society!"
"I am that man,—I have cast that sarcasm, that defiance, in the face of society!" exclaimed the monster, in a tone of ecstatic pride.
"Jacques! Jacques! Do not speak thus!" said Cecily, with a tone of emotion. "You make me mad!"
"My head for your love,—will you have it so?"
"Ah, this, indeed, is love! Here, take my poniard,—you disarm me!"