I have sworn to her that
I will make you accept me. No power on earth can take you from me.
Ernestine, listen! You are the only woman who ever resisted me, and for
that I am going to make you what I have never desired to make any woman
before,--my wife--not my servant; my queen--not my slave. I can give you
everything under the sun. You will be a princess. You will have wealth,
jewels such as you have never dreamed of, palaces, servants, honour--"
"And you!" she cried hysterically. "You!"
"Yes, and me," he said. "But you will have me in one form or another
whatever your choice. You won't get away from me. You may refuse to
marry me, but----"
"I do!" she burst out wildly. "I do!"
"But--" he said again, very deliberately.
And then, compelled by she knew not what, she lifted her eyes to his.
And all her life she shrank and shuddered at the dread memory of what
she saw.
For seconds he did not utter a single word. For seconds his eyes held
hers, arresting, piercing, devouring. She could not escape them. She was
forced to meet them, albeit with fear and loathing unutterable.
"You see!" he said at last, as though concluding an argument. "You are
mine! I can do with you exactly as I will--exactly as I will!" He
repeated the words almost in a whisper.
But at that she cried out, and began to struggle, like a bird beating
its wings against the bars of a cage.
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