The anguish—the remorse. No, let it pass!
And let me come to such most poor atonement
Yet in my power. Pauline!—
Pauline.
No, touch me not!
I know my fate. You are, by law, my tyrant;
And I—O Heaven!—a peasant's wife! I'll work—
Toil—drudge—do what thou wilt—but touch me not!
Let my wrongs make me sacred!
Mel.