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Gwynplaine rose in terror. Ursus held Dea.
"
Die! You die! No; it shall not be! You cannot die! Die now! Die at
once! It is impossible! God is not ferociously cruel--to give you and to
take you back in the same moment. No; such a thing cannot be. It would
make one doubt in Him. Then, indeed, would everything be a snare--the
earth, the sky, the cradles of infants, the human heart, love, the
stars. God would be a traitor and man a dupe. There would be nothing in
which to believe. It would be an insult to the creation. Everything
would be an abyss. You know not what you say, Dea. You shall live! I
command you to live! You must obey me! I am your husband and your
master; I forbid you to leave me! O heavens! O wretched Man! No, it
cannot be--I to remain in the world after you! Why, it is as monstrous
as that there should be no sun! Dea! Dea! recover! It is but a moment
of passing pain. One feels a shudder at times, and thinks no more about
it. It is absolutely necessary that you should get well and cease to
suffer. You die! What have I done to you? The very thought of it
drives me mad. We belong to each other, and we love each other. You have
no reason for going! It would be unjust! Have I committed crimes?
Besides, you have forgiven me. Oh, you would not make me desperate--have
me become a villain, a madman, drive me to perdition? Dea, I entreat
you! I conjure you! I supplicate you! Do not die!"
And clenching his hands in his hair, agonized with fear, stifled with
tears, he threw himself at her feet.
"My Gwynplaine," said Dea, "it is no fault of mine."
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