would have spoken; but no sooner did she feel his hand laid upon her mantle than she turned suddenly round, with a look of inexpressible fierceness, saying, with the sternest accents of a voice always strikingly expressive,
"Who art thou, that comest between me and my purpose? If a priest or an angel, fly, – for here thou art with contamination; if a man, and a bad man, still fly, lest thou be struck dead with the breath of one deeper plunged in guilt than thyself. – If a devil, then remain, and claim thy prey from the apostate and murderess. Dost thou forbid me even to die?"
"Ay – I do," replied Camarga, trembling, yet less at her terrible countenance than her fearful expressions: "I am one who, in the name of heaven, – a name which is alike polluted: in thy mouth and in mine – command thee to recall thy senses, if they have not utterly fled, and bid thee, thinking of self-slaughter no longer, leave this land of wretchedness, and, in a cloister, and with a life of penitence, obtain the pardon which heaven will not perhaps withhold."
"Pardon comes not without punishment," said Magdalena, sternly; "and I would not that it should: and for penitence, – the moaning regret that exists without torture and suffering, – know that it is but a mockery. Kill thy friend, and repent, – yet dream not of paradise. Scourge thyself, die on the rack or gibbet, and await thy fate in the grave. Begone; or rest where thou art, and follow me no more."
"Till thou die, or till thou art lodged within the walls of a convent," said Camarga, grasping her arm with a strength and determination she could not resist: "thus far will I follow thee, rave thou never so much. Oh, wretched creature! and wert thou about to rush into the presence of thy Maker, unshriven, unrepenting, unprepared?"
Magdalena surveyed him with a look that changed gradually from anger to wistful emotion; and then again shedding tears, she dropped on her knees, saying, with a tone and manner that went to his heart,
"I will shrive me then, and then let me go, for thy presence persecutes me. – Well, and perhaps it is better; for it is long since I have looked upon a man of God – long since I have spoken with any just Christian but one, – and him I have given up to the murderers. Hear me then, and then absolve or condemn as thou wilt, for I judge myself; and I confess to thee, only that my words may drive thee away, as would the moans of a coming pestilence. Hear me then, friar, and then begone from me."
"Arise," said Camarga, "I seek not thy confession, at least not now: I have that will draw it from thee, at a fitter time and place. In this distant spot, thou art exposed to danger from the infidels."
"If thou fearest them, away! Why dost thou trouble me? If thou stayest, listen to my words; for though they come too late, yet will they cause thee to do justice to the name, and say masses for the soul, of Juan Lerma."
"Speak of Juan Lerma," said Camarga, with a trembling voice, "and I will indeed listen to thee. In nomine Dei Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, speak and speak truly. Cursed be thou, even by my lips, if thou speakest that which is false, or concealest aught that is true!"
"Truth, though I die, – and let me die when it is spoken," said Magdalena, placing her lips with the instinctive reverence of habit to the cross which Camarga extended. As she kissed it, her heart seemed to soften, and she shed many bitter tears, while pouring forth her broken and melancholy story.
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