He let his arm drop slowly，and bent his eyes upon the ground in deepest dejection.'If these stones could speak，'he murmured，'they would say，‘Here is，indeed，a most unhappy man！''
'I love you，'he resumed，and the girl，still kneeling at the gibbet，her long hair falling around her，let him speak without interrupting him.His tones were plaintive now and gentle，contrasting sadly with the harsh disdain stamped upon his features.'Yes，in spite of all，'tis perfectly true.Is there then nothing to show for this fire that consumes my heart！Alas！night and day—yes，girl，night and day—does that deserve no pity？'Tis a love of the night and the day，I tell you—'tis torture！Oh！my torment is too great，my poor child.'Tis a thing worthy of compassion，I do protest to you.You see，I speak in all gentleness.I would fain have you cease to abhor me.Look you，when a man loves a woman，it is not his fault！Oh，my God！What！will you then never forgive m ill you hate me ever thus？And is this the end？That is what makes me wicked，look you，and horrible to myself.You will not even look at me.You are，may-be，thinking of something else while I stand here talking to you，and we both are trembling on the brink of eternity！But above all things，speak not to me of that soldier！What！I might fling myself at your knees，I might kiss，not your feet—for that you will not have，but the ground under your feet！I might sob like a child，might tear from my breast，not words，but my very heart，to tell you that I love you—and all would be in vain—all！And yet，there is nothing in your soul but what is tender and merciful.Loving kindness beams from you；you are all goodness and sweetness，full of pity and grace.Alas！your harshness is for me alone.Oh，bitter fate！'
He buried his face in his hands.The girl could hear him weeping；it was the first time.Standing thus，and shaken by sobs，he made amore wretched and suppliant figure even than on his knees.He wept on for a while.
'Enough，'he said presently，the first violence of his emotion spent.'I find no words.And yet I had well pondered what I would say to you.And now I tremble and shiver，I grow faint-hearted at the decisive moment.I feel that something transcendent wraps us round，and my tongue falters.Oh，I shall fall to the ground if you will not take pity on me，pity on yourself！Condemn us not both to perdition.Didst thou but know how much I love thee！—what a heart is mine！the desertion of all virtue，the abandonment of myself！A doctor，I mock at science；a gentleman，I tarnish my name；a priest，I make of my missal a pillow of wantonness—I spit in the face of my Redeemer！And all for thee，enchantress；to be more worthy of thy hell！And yet thou rejectest the damned！Oh，let me tell thee all—more than this，something still more horrible，more horrible—！'
With these last words his manner became utterly distraught.He was silent a moment，then，in a stern voice and as if addressing himself：
'Cain！'he cried，'what has thou done with thy brother？'
There was a pause，and then he began again.'What have I done with him，Lord？I took him，I reared him，I nourished him，loved him，idolized him，and—I killed him！Yes，Lord，before my very eyes they dashed his head against the stones of thy house；and it was because of me，because of this woman，because of her—'
Madness gleamed from his sunken eyes；his voice dropped away；two or three times he repeated mechanically，and with long pauses between，like the last prolonged vibrations of the strokes of a bell，'Because of her—because of her—'At last，though his lips still moved，no articulate sound came from them，then suddenly he fell in a heap like a house crumbling to pieces，and remained motionless on the ground，his head on his knees.
A faint movement of the girl，drawing away her foot from under him，brought him to himself.He slowly swept his hand over his haggard cheeks，and gazed for some moments at his fingers，surprised to find them wet.'What，'he murmured，'have I been weeping？'
He turned suddenly upon the gipsy with nameless anguish.
'Woe is me！thou canst see me weep unmoved！Child，knowest thou that such tears are molten lava？Is it then indeed true，that in the man we hate nothing can melt us？Thou wouldst see me die and wouldst laugh.Oh，I cannot see thee die！One word，one single word of kindness！I ask not that thou shouldst say thou lovest me；tell me only that thou art willing I should save thee.That will suffice；I will save thee in return for that.If not—oh，time flies！I entreat thee，by all that is sacred，wait not till I turn to stone again like this gibbet，that yearns for thee also！Remember that I hold both our destinies in my hand；that I am frenzied—it is terrible—that I may let everything go，and that there lies beneath us，unhappy girl，a bottomless pit wherein my fall will follow thine to all eternity！One word of kindness！Say one word！but one word！'
Her lips parted to answer him.He flung himself on his knees before her to receive with adoration the words，perchance of relenting，that should fall from them.
'You are an assassin！'she said.
The priest clasped her furiously in his arms and burst into a hideous laugh.
'Good，then；yes，an assassin！'he cried，'and I will have thee.Thou wilt not have me for a slave；thou shalt have me for thy master.I will take my prey；I have a den whither I will drag thee.Thou shalt follow me；thou must follow me，or I will deliver thee up！Thou must die，my fair one，or be mine！belong to me，the priest，the apostate，the murderer！and this very night，hearest thou？Come！kiss me，little fool！The grave or my bed！'
His eyes flashed with rage and lust.Froth stood on the lascivious lips that covered the girl's neck with frenzied kisses.She struggled fiercely in his arms.
'Bite me not，monster！'she shrieked.'Oh，the hateful，venomous monk！Let me go，or I tear out thy vile gray hairs and fling them in handfuls in thy face！'