I beheld you stripped and handled， half naked， by the infamous hands of the tormentor. I beheld your foot， that foot which I would have given an empire to kiss and die， that foot， beneath which to have had my head crushed I should have felt such rapture，--I beheld it encased in that horrible boot， which converts the limbs of a living being into one bloody clod. Oh， wretch！ while I looked on at that， I held beneath my shroud a dagger， with which I lacerated my breast. When you uttered that cry， I plunged it into my flesh； at a second cry， it would have entered my heart. Look！ I believe that it still bleeds."He opened his cassock. His breast was in fact， mangled as by the claw of a tiger， and on his side he had a large and badly healed wound.
The prisoner recoiled with horror.
"Oh！" said the priest， "young girl， have pity upon me！
You think yourself unhappy； alas！ alas！ you know not what unhappiness is. Oh！ to love a woman！ to be a priest！ to be hated！ to love with all the fury of one's soul； to feel that one would give for the least of her smiles， one's blood， one's vitals， one's fame， one's salvation， one's immortality and eternity， this life and the other； to regret that one is not a king， emperor， archangel， God， in order that one might place a greater slave beneath her feet； to clasp her night and day in one's dreams and one's thoughts， and to behold her in love with the trappings of a soldier and to have nothing to offer her but a priest's dirty cassock， which will inspire her with fear and disgust！ To be present with one's jealousy and one's rage， while she lavishes on a miserable， blustering imbecile， treasures of love and beauty！ To behold that body whose form burns you， that bosom which possesses so much sweetness， that flesh palpitate and blush beneath the kisses of another！
Oh heaven！ to love her foot， her arm， her shoulder， to think of her blue veins， of her brown skin， until one writhes for whole nights together on the pavement of one's cell， and to behold all those caresses which one has dreamed of， end in torture！ To have succeeded only in stretching her upon the leather bed！ Oh！ these are the veritable pincers， reddened in the fires of hell. Oh！ blessed is he who is sawn between two planks， or torn in pieces by four horses！ Do you know what that torture is， which is imposed upon you for long nights by your burning arteries， your bursting heart， your breaking head， your teeth-knawed hands； mad tormentors which turn you incessantly， as upon a red-hot gridiron， to a thought of love， of jealousy， and of despair！ Young girl， mercy！ a truce for a moment！ a few ashes on these live coals！ Wipe away， I beseech you， the perspiration which trickles in great drops from my brow！ Child！ torture me with one hand， but caress me with the other！ Have pity， young girl！ Have pity upon me！"The priest writhed on the wet pavement， beating his head against the corners of the stone steps. The young girl gazed at him， and listened to him.
When he ceased， exhausted and panting， she repeated in a low voice，--"Oh my Phoebus！"
The priest dragged himself towards her on his knees.
"I beseech you，" he cried， "if you have any heart， do not repulse me！ Oh！ I love you！ I am a wretch！ When you utter that name， unhappy girl， it is as though you crushed all the fibres of my heart between your teeth. Mercy！ If you come from hell I will go thither with you. I have done everything to that end. The hell where you are， shall he paradise； the sight of you is more charming than that of God！
Oh！ speak！ you will have none of me？ I should have thought the mountains would be shaken in their foundations on the day when a woman would repulse such a love. Oh！ if you only would！ Oh！ how happy we might be. We would flee--Iwould help you to flee，--we would go somewhere， we would seek that spot on earth， where the sun is brightest， the sky the bluest， where the trees are most luxuriant. We would love each other， we would pour our two souls into each other， and we would have a thirst for ourselves which we would quench in common and incessantly at that fountain of inexhaustible love."She interrupted with a terrible and thrilling laugh.
"Look， father， you have blood on your fingers！"The priest remained for several moments as though petrified， with his eyes fixed upon his hand.
"Well， yes！" he resumed at last， with strange gentleness， "insult me， scoff at me， overwhelm me with scorn！ but come， come. Let us make haste. It is to be to-morrow， I tell you.
The gibbet on the Grève， you know it？ it stands always ready. It is horrible！ to see you ride in that tumbrel！ Oh mercy！ Until now I have never felt the power of my love for you.--Oh！ follow me. You shall take your time to love me after I have saved you. You shall hate me as long as you will. But come. To-morrow！ to-morrow！ the gallows！ your execution！ Oh！ save yourself！ spare me！"He seized her arm， he was beside himself， he tried to drag her away.
She fixed her eye intently on him.
"What has become of my Phoebus？"
"Ah！" said the priest， releasing her arm， "you are pitiless.""What has become of Phoebus？" she repeated coldly.
"He is dead！" cried the priest.
"Dead！" said she， still icy and motionless "then why do you talk to me of living？"He was not listening to her.
"Oh！ yes，" said he， as though speaking to himself， "he certainly must be dead. The blade pierced deeply. I believe I touched his heart with the point. Oh！ my very soul was at the end of the dagger！"The young girl flung herself upon him like a raging tigress， and pushed him upon the steps of the staircase with supernatural force.
"Begone， monster！ Begone， assassin！ Leave me to die！
May the blood of both of us make an eternal stain upon your brow！ Be thine， priest！ Never！ never！ Nothing shall unite us！ not hell itself！ Go， accursed man！ Never！"The priest had stumbled on the stairs. He silently disentangled his feet from the folds of his robe， picked up his lantern again， and slowly began the ascent of the steps which led to the door； he opened the door and passed through it.
All at once， the young girl beheld his head reappear； it wore a frightful expression， and he cried， hoarse with rage and despair，--"I tell you he is dead！"
She fell face downwards upon the floor， and there was no longer any sound audible in the cell than the sob of the drop of water which made the pool palpitate amid the darkness.