He groaned in anguish, seeming to see how she had perished through
the blight of his passion. Not by fire, O God! Not by fire! How long
would it be possible to breathe in this stifling reek, heavy with
unspeakable odors? It was his crime that had brought her to this death.
He, a man set apart and consecrated to the work of God, had turned from
heaven to earth, and heaven had smitten with one blow him and the woman
who had been unwittingly his temptation. And she so innocent, so pure,
so sacred! Through his distraught mind rushed a pang of hatred against
the power that could do this. He was willing to suffer for his sin, but
where was the justice of involving her in his ruin? It was because this
was what would hurt him most! It was the work of a devil! Then this
thought seemed to him a new transgression which might lessen the
chances of his being able to save her, and he tried to forget it in
prayer, to atone by penitence. He offered his own life amid whatever
tortures would propitiate the offended deity, but he prayed that she
might be spared.
All this time--and whether the time were long or short he could not
tell--he had heard continued cries and groans.
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