“Spare them—spare them. Let me die alone.”
“Thee alone?—all the Romans who are in Gaul shall die, and even Adalgisa shall perish in the flames.”
“Pity!—pity!”
“What? Canst thou ask pity of Norma? Ah! she knows no more what pity is. See how I sate myself—how I glory in thy fear for her, and for yourself! Thou shalt suffer, as I have suffered.”
Then she struck the sacred shield once more, and again the priests and the armed men came swarming to the Temple.
“Behold” she cried, “I have found another victim to your rage. A priestess forsworn; who hath forsworn her vows; who hath betrayed her country; who hath angered the god of her people!”
With one vast shout they asked for her name.
“Build the pile,” she said.
Again they cried out for the name of the accursed.
Then over her heart swept a flood of pity for the maiden she was about to denounce. “What right had she, a guilty wretch, to revenge herself upon an innocent creature? Had not Adalgisa pitied her? had she done her any wrong? Could the poor girl save herself from loving the traitor? Had not she herself, she, Norma, fallen?”