"You have come hither not so much to confess the basest crime of which man can be guilty, as to gloat over my anguish and to brave me to revenge my wrongs. Go, man, go--for the present you are safe. While she lives, my life is not mine to hazard--if she recover, I can pity you and forgive. To me your offence, foul though it be, sinks below contempt itself. It is the consequences of that crime as they relate to--to--that noble and suffering woman, which can alone raise the despicable into the tragic and make your life a worthy and a necessary offering--not to revenge, but justice:--life for life--victim for victim! 'Tis the old law--'tis a righteous one." "You shall not, with your accursed coldness, thus dispose of me as you will, and arrogate the option to smite or save! No," continued Cesarini, stamping his foot--"no; far from seeking forbearance at your hands--I dare and defy you! You think I have injured you--I, on the other hand, consider that the wrong has come from yourself. But for you, she might have loved me--have been mine. Let that pass. But for you, at least, it is certain that I should neither have sullied my soul with a vile sin, nor brought the brightest of human beings to the grave. If she dies, the murder may be mine, but you were the cause--the devil that tempted to the offence. I defy and spit upon you--I have no softness left in me--my veins are fire--my heart thirsts for blood. You--you--have still the privilege to see--to bless--to tend her:--and I--I, who loved her so--who could have kissed the earth she trod on--I--well, well, no matter--I hate you--I insult you--I call you villain and dastard--I throw myself on the laws of honour, and I demand that conflict you defer or deny!" "Home, doter--home--fall on thy knees, and pray to Heaven for pardon--make up thy dread account--repine not at the days yet thine to wash the black spot from thy soul. For, while I speak, I foresee too well that her days are numbered, and with her thread of life is entwined thine own. Within twelve hours from her last moment, we shall meet again: but now I am as ice and stone,--thou canst not move me. Her closing life shall not be darkened by the aspect of blood--by the thought of the sacrifice it demands. Begone, or menials shall cast thee from my door: those lips are too base to breathe the same air as honest men. Begone, I say, begone!"