burden for him, if you can.
CONFESSOR. No. If I did he'd only grow insolent and accuse God of
malice and injustice. This man is a demon, who must be kept confined.
He belongs to the dangerous race of rebels; he'd misuse his gifts, if he
could, to do evil. And men's power for evil is immeasurable.
LADY. For the sake of the... attachment you've shown me, can't you ease
his burden a little; where it presses on him most and where he's least
to blame?
CONFESSOR. You must do that, not I; so that he can leave you in the
belief that you've a good side, and that you're not what your first
husband told him you were. If he believes you, I'll deliver him later,
just as I once bound him when he confessed to me, during his illness, in
the convent of St. Saviour's.
LADY (going to the back and opening the door). As you wish!
STRANGER (re-entering). So there's the Terrible One! How did he come
here? But isn't he the beggar, after all?
CONFESSOR. Yes, I am your terrible friend, and I've come for you.
STRANGER. What? Have I...?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Once already you promised me your soul, on oath, when
you lay ill and felt near madness. It was then you offered to serve the
powers of good; but when you got well again you broke your oath, and
therefore were plagued with unrest, and wandered abroad unable to find
peace--tortured by your own conscience.
STRANGER. Who are you really? Who dares lay a hand on my destiny?
CONFESSOR. You must ask her that.
LADY. This is the man to whom I was first engaged, and who dedicated his
life to the service of God, when I left him.
STRANGER. Even if he were!
LADY. So you needn't think so ill of yourself because it was you who
punished my faithlessness and another's lack of conscience.
STRANGER. His sin cannot justify mine. Of course it's untrue, like
everything else; and you only say it to console me.
CONFESSOR. What an unhappy soul he is....
STRANGER. A damned one too!
CONFESSOR. No! (To the LADY.) Say something good of him.
LADY. He won't believe it, if I do; he only believes evil!
CONFESSOR. Then I shall have to say it. A beggar once came and asked him
for a drink of water; but he gave me wine instead and let me sit at his
table. You remember that?
STRANGER. No. I don't load my memory with such trifles.
CONFESSOR. Pride! Pride!
STRANGER. Call it pride, if you like. It's the last vestige of our
god-like origin. Let's go, before it grows dark.
CONFESSOR. 'For t
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