"For what do you take me, then? . . . Will you answer?"
Paquita got up gently, her eyes full of tears, took a poniard from one
of the two ebony pieces of furniture, and presented it to Henri with a
gesture of submission which would have moved a tiger.
"Give me a feast such as men give when they love," she said, "and
whilst I sleep, slay me, for I know not how to answer thee. Hearken! I
am bound like some poor beast to a stake; I am amazed that I have been
able to throw a bridge over the abyss which divides us. Intoxicate me,
then kill me! Ah, no, no!" she cried, joining her hands, "do not kill
me! I love life! Life is fair to me! If I am a slave, I am a queen
too. I could beguile you with words, tell you that I love you alone,
prove it to you, profit by my momentary empire to say to you: 'Take me
as one tastes the perfume of a flower when one passes it in a king's
garden.' Then, after having used the cunning eloquence of woman and
soared on the wings of pleasure, after having quenched my thirst, I
could have you cast into a pit, where none could find you, which has
been made to gratify vengeance without having to fear that of the law,
a pit full of lime which would kindle and consume you, until no
particle of you were left. You would stay in my heart, mine forever."
Henri looked at the girl without trembling, and this fearless gaze
filled her with joy.
"No, I shall not do it! You have fallen into no trap here, but upon
the heart of a woman who adores you, and it is I who will be cast into
the pit.
Pages:
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446