_Flor._ (_drawing sword_). I needed no assurance, yea or nay, That some foul planning of thy leper-heart Had worked this devilry! Thou lovest her? _Thou_ lovest her? Is there no blasphemy That devils shrink from? Hast thou seen thyself? (_Seizing MOUSTA and holding his head over the pool._) Look in the fountain--bend thy cursed head! Look at it--dog-face! (_MOUSTA struggles._) Shrink not back appalled-- It will not harm thee, coward--look at it! What do we do with such a thing as _that_ When it dares claim a common right with Man? We crush it underfoot--we stamp it down, Lest other reptiles take their cue from it, And say, “If he is human, so are we!” (_Flinging him on ground._) _Mous._ (_crouching on ground_). Spare me your tongue! I well know what I am, And what I’ve done. My life is forfeited. Strike at the heart! Be quick--I am prepared! _Flor._ Hast thou no prayer to utter? _Mous._ No, not I. Curse you, be quick, I say! Yet stay--one word. Before you pass your sword between my ribs, Look at yourself, sir knight, then look at me! You, comely, straight-limbed, fair of face and form-- (I say not this to court your favour, sir-- The Devil take your favour!)--I, a dwarf, Crooked, humpbacked, and one-eyed--so foul a thing That I am fain to quote my love for women To prove that I have kinship with mankind. Well, we are deadly rivals, you and I. Do we start fair, d’ye think? Are you and I So nicely matched in all that wins a woman That I should hold myself in honour bound By laws of courtesy? But one word more, And I have done. Had I those shapely limbs, That fair, smooth face, those two great, god-like eyes (May lightning blast them, as it blasted mine!), Believe me, sir, I’d use no Talismans! Now kill me--I’m prepared. I only ask One boon of you--strike surely, and be quick! _Flor._ (_Pauses for a moment--then sheathes his sword._) Go, take thy life, I’ll none of it! With one Whom Heaven hath so defaced, let Heaven deal. _I_ will not sit in judgment on thy sin! My wrath has faded--when I look upon The seal that Heaven hath set upon thy brow, Why, I could find it in my heart to ask Thy pardon for the fury of my words! Go, take thy life, make fairer use of it. _Mous._ (_much moved_). I thank you, sir--not for my blighted life, But for the pitying words in which you grant it. (_With emotion._) You’ve moved me very deeply. (_Places the ring that HILDA gave him on FLORIAN’S finger--then kisses his hand._) Curse the tears. I am not used to weep, my lord,--but then I am not used to gentleness from men. [_Exit MOUSTA._