Each of these cruel words entered the unhappy young man's heart like a dagger, and made him endure atrocious torture.
"Yes," he said sadly, "appearances are against me; in vain should I try to persuade you of my innocence, for you would not believe me; and yet Heaven is my witness that I attempted all it was humanly possible to do, in order to save you."
"You were very unfortunate then, sir," she continued sarcastically; "for it must be allowed that all these attempts of which you boast strangely turned against you."
Shaw uttered a deep sigh.
"Good Heaven!" he said, "What proof can I give you of my devotion?"
"None," she replied coldly.
"Oh! madam."
"Sir," she interrupted him in a firm and ironical voice, "spare me, I beg of you, your lamentations, in whose sincerity I cannot believe, as there are too many undeniable proofs against you; even more odious than treachery are the hypocritical protestations of a traitor. You have succeeded, so what more do you want? Enjoy your triumph. I repeat to you that I do not reproach you, for you have acted as your instincts and training urged you to do; you have been true to yourself and faithful to your antecedents: I need say no more. Now, if I may be allowed to ask a favour of you, let us break off a conversation no longer possessing any interest, as you will not succeed in destroying my impressions about you: imitate the example of your comrades, and let me indulge in my grief without any obstacle."
Shaw thunderstruck by these words, pronounced in a tone that admitted of no reply; he saw the fearful position he was in, and a mad fury seized on him. Doña Clara had left her head fall again in her hands and was weeping: The young man felt a sob choking him.
"Oh!" he said, "What pleasure you take in torturing my heart. You say I betrayed you, I who loved you so!"