“Infernal,” she repeated.
“But how, then, were you able to get out?”
“Ah!” she said, “that was my ruin. I drove Dona Concha to choose between the fear of immediate death and anger to be. I had the curiosity of a demon, I wished to break the bronze circle which they had described between creation and me, I wished to see what young people were like, for I knew nothing of man except the Marquis and Cristemio. Our coachman and the lackey who accompanies us are old men....”
“But you were not always thus shut up? Your health...?”
“Ah,” she answered, “we used to walk, but it was at night and in the country, by the side of the Seine, away from people.”
“Are you not proud of being loved like that?”
“No,” she said, “no longer. However full it be, this hidden life is but darkness in comparison with the light.”
“What do you call the light?”
“Thee, my lovely Adolphe! Thee, for whom I would give my life. All the passionate things that have been told me, and that I have inspired, I feel for thee! For a certain time I understood nothing of existence, but now I know what love is, and hitherto I have been the loved one only; for myself, I did not love. I would give up everything for you, take me away. If you like, take me as a toy, but let me be near you until you break me.”
“You will have no regrets?”