. I had nothing to regret and therefore I felt no fear.
But you spoke--you said things to me that no one had ever said before,
and then you forced my avowal from me. The danger suddenly appeared
before me, unmistakable, imminent. And then I abandoned myself to a
fresh dream. Your mental distress touched me to the heart, caused me
profound pain. "Impurity has sullied his soul," I thought to myself.
"Oh, that I had the power to purify it again! What happiness to offer
myself up as a sacrifice for his regeneration!" Your unhappiness
attracted mine. I thought I might scarcely be able to console you, but I
hoped at least you might find relief in having another soul to answer
eternally _Amen_ to all your plaints.'

She uttered the last words with a face so suffused with spiritual
exaltation that Andrea felt a wave of half-religious joy sweep over him,
and his one desire, at that moment, was to take those dear and spotless
hands in his and breathe upon them the ineffable rapture of his soul.

'But it cannot--it may not be.' she went on, shaking her head in sad
regret. 'We must renounce that hope for ever. Life is inexorable.
Without intending it, you would destroy a whole existence--and more than
one perhaps----'

'Maria, Maria! do not say such things!' the young man broke in, leaning
over her once more and taking one of her hands with a sort of timid
entreaty, as if looking for some sign of permission before venturing on
the liberty. 'I will do anything you tell me; I will be humble and
obedient, my one thought shall be to carry out your wishes, my one
desire, to die with your name upon my lips. In renouncing you, I
renounce my salvation, I fall back into irremediable ruin and disaster.
I have no words to express my love for you. I have need of you. You
alone are _true_--you are Truth itself, for which my soul is ever
seeking. All else is vanity--all else is nought. To give you up is like
signing my death-warrant. But if this immolation is necessary to your
peace of mind, it shall be done--I owe it to you. Do not fear, Maria, I
will never do anything to hurt you.'

He held her hand, but he did not press it. His voice had none of the old
passionate ardour, it was submissive, disconsolate, heart-broken, full
of infinite weariness. And Maria was so blinded by her compassion that
she did not draw away her hand, but let it lie in his, abandoning
herself for a moment to the unutterable rapture of that light contact--a
rapture s