"Why or how I have come to love you I do not know. It may be that
you are not altogether fair to look upon. Do you know, I am ignorant
even as to what your face is like. In all probability, too, your heart
is not comely, and it is possible that your mind is wholly ignoble."

"And because you do not believe in my nobility of soul you
think to purchase me with money?" she said.

"WHEN have I thought to do so?" was my reply.

"You are losing the thread of the argument. If you do not wish
to purchase me, at all events you wish to purchase my respect."

"Not at all. I have told you that I find it difficult to
explain myself. You are hard upon me. Do not be angry at my
chattering. You know why you ought not to be angry with me--that
I am simply an imbecile. However, I do not mind if you ARE
angry. Sitting in my room, I need but to think of you, to
imagine to myself the rustle of your dress, and at once I fall
almost to biting my hands. Why should you be angry with me?
Because I call myself your slave? Revel, I pray you, in my
slavery--revel in it. Do you know that sometimes I could kill
you?--not because I do not love you, or am jealous of you, but,
because I feel as though I could simply devour you... You are
laughing!"

"No, I am not," she retorted. "But I order you, nevertheless,
to be silent."

She stopped, well nigh breathless with anger. God knows, she may