Why, then,—why have I brought this instrument
Of murder here? What black intent
Clouded my mind with blood?
[Flinging it from him.]
Out of my hands!—My sister, can it be
That still you soar above my sanguine flood
Of passion, and forgive? Though yet I kill,
Oh, is it true indeed—you love me still?
ORNIS
Ha, put me to the test!