"If you will never see my face again."
He looked at her with a great smile, drew his sword, and held the point towards her.
"Then give me hate."
"Messire!"
"Hate, not forgiveness, hate, utter and divine, that I may fight and travail, labour and despair."
"Messire!"
"Hate me, hate me, with all the unreason of your heart. Hate me a hundred times, that I may but leap a hundred times into your life. Bar me out that I may storm your battlements again and again."
"Are you a fool?"
"A glorious, mad, inspired fool."
They were quite near the trees. Their black masses threw a great shadow over the pair. Higher still the sky burnt.