“I cannot alter the sentence pronounced.”
“Ah!” Gustav interjected, drawing in his breath sharply. “It is so hard on me. I hope, I believe, it is hard on her, too.”
“She is sensible. She will resign herself to marry the man I have chosen for her.”
“Young Ehrenstein!” Gustav almost shouted, with a start.
“Can you ask? He is a fool and a villain. A fellow who does not know his own mind, is betrothed to one woman, loves another, and levants with a third.”
“Such a choice would indeed be tragic for her,” Gustav said, sardonically. “Has she consented?”
“Partly.”
“It is incredible to me, sir. You shock me. You unnerve me. I desire to remain cool, but the picture you force upon me is unbearable, vile, discordant. Inarime wedded—and not to me! Impossible! I will not accept it.”
“Hush! You have no choice. I do not offer an alternative,” interposed Selaka, judicially.
“But, sir, you have a tender love for her. Think of the cruelty, the shame and agony for her! She is all delicacy and sensitiveness. To have given herself to me, and now to be asked to accept another! It is the most abominable desecration of maidenhood! She cannot, she will not! Be reasonable. Think of her, sir.”