He drew his revolver, cocked it and took aim at the young man:
"Choose," he repeated.
The expression of his face was implacable. Gérard was frightened and sank down on his bed sobbing:
"You wish it firmly, irrevocably?"
"Yes, a thousand times yes! After the terrible thing which I attempted, death appals me. . . . Anything . . . anything rather than death! . . . Anything! . . . Pain . . . hunger . . . illness . . . every torture, every shame . . . crime itself, if need be . . . but not death!"
He shivered with fever and agony, as though the great enemy were still prowling round him and as though he felt himself powerless to escape from its clutches. The prince redoubled his efforts and, in a fervent voice, holding him under him like a prey:
"I will ask nothing impossible of you, nothing wrong. . . . If there is anything, I am responsible. . . . No, no crime . . . a little pain at most. . . . A little of your blood must flow. But what is that, compared with the dread of dying?"
"Pain is indifferent to me."
"Then here and now!" shouted Sernine. "Here and now! Ten seconds of pain and that is all. . . . Ten seconds and the other's life is yours. . . ."