Or, if you know a more cruel mother still, behold her cruelty doubled in me! Poison and dagger shall avenge me. But no, poison and dagger are tools too merciful for me! They would kill your child and mine too soon. I will not see it dead. I will see it dying! I will see each feature of the face which she has from you disfigured, distorted, and obliterated by slow torture. With eager hand will I part limb from limb, vein from vein, nerve from nerve, and will not cease to cut and burn the very smallest of them, even when there is nothing remaining but a senseless carcass! I--I shall at least feel in it--how sweet is revenge! MELLEFONT. You are raving, Marwood---- MARWOOD. You remind me that my ravings are not directed against the right person. The father must go first! He must already be in yonder world, when, through a thousand woes the spirit of his daughter follows him (_she advances towards him with a dagger which she draws from her bosom_). So die, traitor! MELLEFONT (_seizing her arm, and snatching the dagger from her_). Insane woman! What hinders me now from turning the steel against you? But live, and your punishment shall be left for a hand void of honour. MARWOOD (_wringing her hands_). Heaven, what have I done? Mellefont---- MELLEFONT. Your grief shall not deceive me. I know well why you are sorry--not that you wished to stab me, but that you failed to do so. MARWOOD. Give me back the erring steel! Give it me back, and you shall see for whom it was sharpened! For this breast alone, which for long has been too narrow for a heart which will rather renounce life than your love. MELLEFONT. Hannah! MARWOOD. What are you doing, Mellefont? Scene VIII. Hannah (_in terror_), Marwood, Mellefont. MELLEFONT. Did you hear, Hannah, how madly your mistress was behaving? Remember that I shall hold you responsible for Arabella! HANNAH. Madam, how agitated you are! MELLEFONT. I will place the innocent child in safety immediately. Justice will doubtless be able to bind the murderous hands of her cruel mother (_going_). MARWOOD. Whither, Mellefont? Is it astonishing that the violence of my grief deprived me of my reason? Who forces me to such unnatural excess? Is it not you yourself? Where can Bella be safer than with me? My lips may rave, but my heart still remains the heart of a mother. Oh, Mellefont, forget my madness, and to excuse it think only of its cause. MELLEFONT. There is only one thing which can induce me to forget it. MARWOOD. And that is?