“What shall I ever do!” she said, fighting thus with her despair. “How can I go on as I am, a solitary curse to myself, a living disgrace to everyone I come near!” Suddenly she turned to my companion. “Stamp upon me, kill me! When she was your pride, you would have thought I had done her harm if I had brushed against her in the street. You can’t believe⁠—why should you?⁠—a syllable that comes out of my lips. It would be a burning shame upon you, even now, if she and I exchanged a word. I don’t complain. I don’t say she and I are alike⁠—I know there is a long, long way between us. I only say, with all my guilt and wretchedness upon my head, that I am grateful to her from my soul, and love her. Oh, don’t think that all the power I had of loving anything is quite worn out! Throw me away, as all the world does. Kill me for being what I am, and having ever known her; but don’t think that of me!”

He looked upon her, while she made this supplication, in a wild distracted manner; and, when she was silent, gently raised her.