"Ah, what is life to me!"
"We Christians still have need of you."
The man's seeming scorn scourged her anguish to a shrill despair. The hot blood swept more swiftly through her worn, white body.
"Cursed be your ambition," she said to him; "must you torture me before the world?"
"Perhaps."
"I renounce this lying part."
"As you will, madame; it will only make you look the greater fool."
"Ah, you are brutal."
He turned to her with the look of one enduring unuttered anguish in the spirit. His strong pride throttled passion, twisting his rough face into tragic ugliness.
"No, believe it not," he said; "I desire even for your heart's sake that you should make the best of an evil fortune. Learn to smile again; pretend to a zest in life. I have fathomed hell in my grim years, and my words are true. Time loves youth and recovers its sorrow. Know this and ponder it: 'tis better to play the hypocrite than to suffer the world to chuckle over one's tears."