To me scarce any thing is so utterly pathetic as the back. That of an animal even is full of sad suggestion. But the human back!--It is the other, the dark side of the human moon; the blind side of the being, defenseless, and exposed to every thing; the ignorant side, turned toward the abyss of its unknown origin; the unfeatured side, eyeless and dumb and helpless--the enduring animal of the marvelous commonwealth, to be given to the smiter, and to bend beneath the burden--lovely in its patience and the tender forms of its strength. An evil word, resented by the lowest of our sisters, rushed to the man's lips, but died there in a strangled murmur. "Paul!" said Juliet, in a voice from whose tone it seemed as if her soul had sunk away, and was crying out of a hollow place of the earth, "take it--take it. Strike me." He made no reply--stood utterly motionless, his teeth clenched so hard that he could not have spoken without grinding them. She waited as motionless, her face bowed to the floor, the whip held up over her head. "Paul!" she said again, "you saved my life once: save my soul now. Whip me and take me again." He answered with only a strange unnatural laugh through his teeth. "Whip me and let me die then," she said. He spoke no word. She spoke again. Despair gave her both insight and utterance--despair and great love, and the truth of God that underlies even despair. "You pressed me to marry you," she said: "what was I to do? How could I tell you? And I loved you so! I persuaded myself I was safe with you--you were so generous. You would protect me from every thing, even my own past. In your name I sent it away, and would not think of it again. I said to myself you would not wish me to tell you the evil that had befallen me. I persuaded myself you loved me enough even for that. I held my peace trusting you. Oh my husband! my Paul! my heart is crushed. The dreadful thing has come back. I thought it was gone from me, and now it will not leave me any more. I am a horror to myself. There is no one to punish and forgive me but you. Forgive me, my husband. You are the God to whom I pray. If you pardon me I shall be content even with myself. I shall seek no other pardon; your favor is all I care for. If you take me for clean, I _am_ clean for all the world. You can make me clean--you only. Do it, Paul; do it, husband. Make me clean that I may look women in the face. Do, Paul, take the whip and strike me. I long for my deserts at your hand. Do comfort me. I am waiting the sting of it, Paul, to know that you have forgiven me. If I should cry out, it will be for gladness.--Oh, my husband,"--here her voice rose to an agony of entreaty--"I was but a girl--hardly more than a child in knowledge--I did not know what I was doing. He was much older than I was, and I trusted him!--O my God! I hardly know what I knew and what I did not know: it was only when it was too late that I woke and understood. I hate myself. I scorn myself.