room nor to grief. I will share your every joy, your every sorrow--I
will divide with you the last piece of bread. Truly, I cannot speak
for tears. Look, I am not so bad, but I have been so miserable. I
loved you always. Ah, you bad boy, if it were not for your pride we
should have been happy long ago. Tell me once more that you love
me--that you consent to take me when I shall be free--is it not so,
Leon?

Leon.--No, madam!

Jadwiga.--Leon, my dearest, wait! Perhaps I have not heard well. For I
cannot comprehend that when I am hanging over a precipice of despair,
when I seize the edge with my hands, you, instead of helping me--you
place your feet on my fingers! No! it is impossible. You are too good
for that! Do not thrust me away. My life now would be still worse. I
have nothing in the world but you, and with you I lost happiness--not
alone happiness but everything in me which is good--which cries for a
quiet and saintly life. For now it would be forever. But you do not
know how happy you yourself will be when you will have forgiven me
and rescued me. You have loved me, have you not? You have said it
yourself. I have heard it. Now I stretch out my hands to you like a
drowning person--rescue me!

Leon.--We must finish this mutual torture. Madam, I am a weak man. I
would give way if--but I wish to spare you--if not for the fact that
my sore and dead heart cannot give you anything but tears and pity.

Jadwiga.--You do not love me!

Leon.--I have no strength for happiness. I did love you. My heart