As he started at her voice she came forward, pale and trembling, from the shadow.
Asking himself how she could have reached the terrace, after an effort he said, “What wouldst thou?”
“Canst thou ask me? His life.”
“His life! Ask me for mine own as well.”
“See, I kneel to thee.”
“Thou art mad.”
“Nay, see how humble I am; look on me—at thy very feet.”
“Look in my face; dost thou see pity there?”
“I cannot look upon thy face. Pity—I can say no more;—pity! Hath he not twice saved thy life? Wilt thou not render back half thy debt? Kill me if thou wilt, for I heard thee say ’twas by me thou art what thou art. Kill me, yet spare him.”
“As thou speakest, thou dost but ensure his fate. I would I could make him suffer a hundred deaths. As ardently thou lovest so fiercely do I hate. Let go your hold. Nothing can purchase his life.”