Dropping his arms and extending his hands, he put on, with splendid cunning, a mask of virtue. Throwing a wistful, pleading look into his comely brown eyes, he murmured, in a low voice:
“Lady, do your will and take my life! See, I am unarmed and unguarded; shoot! Oh, dear lady, to die by your hands were far sweeter than to live and see you scorn me so, my love!”
His sudden change surprised her, but she was too affrighted to lose her advantage. He saw she was in earnest, and he went on:
“I do not, I could not wish to bring myself to such a degraded level as to wish to do you harm. If you knew how passionately I love you, with what high regard I esteem your purity and courage, you would at least refuse to threaten me so. Your harsh manner cuts me to the heart. Believe me, dear lady, I do not mean you ill—if you think so, you have only to shoot and rid yourself of such a detested object as I am to you.”
He groaned as he said this, and sinking on his couch, buried his face in his hands. She watched him warily, though half melted by his protestations.
“I brought you here,” he said, with his face muffled, “to love and cherish you—to tenderly care for you. If, after a time you did not like it here, I was going to take you back. But oh! it wounds me to have you scorn me so.”
“I know too well your foul hypocrisy to be deluded by it. You have brought me here for evil, and you can not deny it. But this I tell you—that if you lay your hand on me but once, it will be your last moment upon earth. Take it in earnest, you demon, for I am terribly so.”
He groaned, then spoke, pleadingly:
“Oh, my love! please—”
“Keep your distance in language as well as in manner, for I will brook no rude familiarity from you!”