Since even thee my duty cannot spare.”
But she: “The nail-pierced Hands that have my vow,
Defend it.” “Save thyself,” he cried, “and trust
No crucifièd ghost. From foul disgrace
Snatch thine own youth.” And she: “Behold, I do.
Christ is my source of honor, and mine end:
Christ shall be my preserver.” Next I heard:
“Buffet her twice.” Then: “Wilt thou sacrifice?”
My Theodora of the reddened cheek
Seemed absent from the body for a space,