Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. It can wait a bit longer. ” “Perhaps,” she said, “I am superstitious. ’ ‘So that was it. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible.
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