BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER 4. LASCIATE OGNI SPERANZA--LEAVE ALL HOPE BEHIND, YE WHO ENTER HERE.
(continued)
"Accordingly, I denounced you. It was then that I terrified
you when we met. The plot which I was weaving against
you, the storm which I was heaping up above your head, burst
from me in threats and lightning glances. Still, I hesitated.
My project had its terrible sides which made me shrink back.
"Perhaps I might have renounced it; perhaps my hideous
thought would have withered in my brain, without bearing
fruit. I thought that it would always depend upon me to
follow up or discontinue this prosecution. But every evil
thought is inexorable, and insists on becoming a deed; but
where I believed myself to be all powerful, fate was more
powerful than I. Alas! 'tis fate which has seized you and
delivered you to the terrible wheels of the machine which I
had constructed doubly. Listen. I am nearing the end.
"One day,--again the sun was shining brilliantly--I behold
man pass me uttering your name and laughing, who carries
sensuality in his eyes. Damnation! I followed him; you
know the rest."
He ceased.
The young girl could find but one word:
"Oh, my Phoebus!"
"Not that name!" said the priest, grasping her arm
violently. "Utter not that name! Oh! miserable wretches
that we are, 'tis that name which has ruined us! or, rather
we have ruined each other by the inexplicable play of fate!
you are suffering, are you not? you are cold; the night makes
you blind, the dungeon envelops you; but perhaps you still
have some light in the bottom of your soul, were it only your
childish love for that empty man who played with your heart,
while I bear the dungeon within me; within me there is
winter, ice, despair; I have night in my soul.
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