"Yes. Sin has devastated me; sin has reduced me to slavery. I am not worthy of freedom, of love—of Lilian."
"And what must dear Lilian do?" And at the adjective Miss Ford's voice trembled for an instant.
"She must forget me. She must! Tell her that I am too old for her at twenty; that I am as arid as pumice-stone; that I have neither youth, nor health, nor strength, nor joy to offer her beauty, her fascination, and her goodness; that I am no longer capable of love, or enthusiasm, or fidelity, or devotion. Tell her all that! She must forget me—she must. I am a ruined, devastated, dead being; nothing could arouse me. Tell her that! Let her forget me; let her forget the man who is undeserving of her, who has never deserved her; let her forget the being who has scorched his existence at every flame; let her forget the man who has neither faith, nor courage, nor hope—let her forget me. Tell her who I am and what I am. Tell her even worse things, that she may forget me."
"She will not believe me," replied Miss Ford slowly. "Thus she did not know you in the Engadine."
"The man of the Engadine was a phantom," again cried Lucio excitedly. "He was a phantom, another myself, Miss May; another—he of ten years ago—of once upon a time, a phantom that felt itself born again, living again, having form and substance, blood and nerves, being full of immense hope and certainty. In that wondrous land, and beside a wondrous creature, in the presence of an indescribable beauty of things and the perfect beauty of a girl, amidst the flatteries of light, and air, and flowers, of the fragrance, glances, and smiles of a dear lady, that phantom had to become a man again, had to be the man of formerly, strong in sentiment, strong in desire, strong in the new reason for his life. He had to be; he had to be! Who would not have cancelled ten years of sin and slavery in an hour, in a minute, up there amidst everything lofty and pure, white and proud, beside a soul so pure and ardent as Lilian's? Who would not have been another being? Who would not have honestly believed he was another being? She knew a phantom—tell her that! He has vanished, with every false, fleeting form of life, with all his hopes and desires. The wretched phantom vanished in a moment."
"When?"
"On the pier at Ostend, while your boat, as it cleaved the mist, bore you back to England."
Exhausted, frightened, he fell back on the sofa, and scarcely breathed. Standing silently and thoughtfully, Miss May Ford seemed to be waiting for the last words. He raised his head. The tears were dried on his flushed cheeks.
"Tell her to forget me," he resumed in a hard voice, "to fall in love with someone as young as she is, with an honest young Englishman, sane of spirit as she is; with a young Englishman, loving and pure as she is. Let her fall in love with this Englishman, and marry him."
"I do not know if she can do that, Signor Sabini."