BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER 6. THREE HUMAN HEARTS DIFFERENTLY CONSTRUCTED.
(continued)
He bent down to her ear, and added (the spectators supposed
that he was receiving her last confession): "Will you
have me? I can still save you!"
She looked intently at him: "Begone, demon, or I will
denounce you!"
He gave vent to a horrible smile: "You will not be believed.
You will only add a scandal to a crime. Reply quickly! Will
you have me?"
"What have you done with my Phoebus?"
"He is dead!" said the priest.
At that moment the wretched archdeacon raised his head
mechanically and beheld at the other end of the Place, in the
balcony of the Gondelaurier mansion, the captain standing
beside Fleur-de-Lys. He staggered, passed his hand across
his eyes, looked again, muttered a curse, and all his features
were violently contorted.
"Well, die then!" he hissed between his teeth. "No one
shall have you." Then, raising his hand over the gypsy, he
exclaimed in a funereal voice:--"I nunc, anima anceps, et
sit tibi Deus misenicors!"*
* "Go now, soul, trembling in the balance, and God have mercy
upon thee."
This was the dread formula with which it was the custom
to conclude these gloomy ceremonies. It was the signal
agreed upon between the priest and the executioner.
The crowd knelt.
"Kyrie eleison,"* said the priests, who had remained beneath
the arch of the portal.
* "Lord have mercy upon us."
"Kyrie eleison," repeated the throng in that murmur which
runs over all heads, like the waves of a troubled sea.
"Amen," said the archdeacon.
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