Lucia arose, and fell at the knees of her husband, grasping convulsively both his hands.
'I am guilty!' exclaimed she, in an accent to which despair gave inexpressible poignancy; 'I have broken my vows; I have forgotten my duties; I have deceived and betrayed you; I am a miserable wretch, unworthy of forgiveness! I expect neither favor, nor pity, nor mercy. Trample me under your feet; I will not utter a complaint! Kill me; I will make no resistance! I ask nothing for myself—I desire nothing.'
'For whom then do you ask any thing? and what do you desire?' replied the old man, sternly.
'What do I desire!' exclaimed she, with redoubled energy; 'I desire, I implore, that you will not cause another, much less guilty than myself, to bear the punishment of my crime. I desire you to retract a declaration more cruel than a murder—for the dagger only deprives of life, the scaffold bears away honor likewise. If you wish for blood, why not accuse me? There are women who kill their husbands; why might I not be one of these? Denounce me; I will avow every thing. You will be free from a crime which ought to fill you with horror; and an innocent man will not be made to suffer death.'
'All this is very heroic,' said Monsieur Gorsay, with imperturbable raillery; 'but I have too good an opinion of our friend to believe that he would be willing to save his life at the expense of yours. It is his duty, as a devoted lover, to suffer himself to be condemned to death without saying a word; and I am sure that he will do so.'
'He will do so, most assuredly,' repeated Lucia, gazing fiercely at her husband; 'but will you, so near your own death, commit murder? Do you believe in God?'
'Was it Monsieur d'Aubian who taught you to believe in him?' said the old man.
'You are right—you are right! Choose the most cruel words; pierce my heart and avenge yourself; but let it be upon me alone.'
'And where would be the justice of that? By what rule should the most guilty go unpunished? No! for you, tears!—for him, death!'
'Death!'