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ARIADNE. 255oldcold accent;but he stoodpatiently;eveninmyloathing of him some shame of myself stirred inme;Ihad struck a wounded man, and one whowas at my mercy." Go! why will you not go?" Icried to him"furiously. AVhy come here to insult theirgraves? Is the world not wide enough that youmust drag your crimes to Rome ? Rome lovedhim, leave him alone to her. Go,Isay. Youare soilless — enough, as the world — sees, yourworld, nay,you will seduce womenall the easierfor that blood upon yourhand. Most womenarebut beasts of prey, and love the smeil of carnage.Iam cruel ? How many have cried that outagahist you, and when have you everhearkened ?AVhat was your pity, ever? AVhat was a deadlove to you ? You cast your porca præsentanea—after it, and buried it, and thought no moreexcept to smile. AVhy cannot you smile now?Be trae to yourself. Nothing matters. Youcanmake the world weep, you laughing all thewhile. Aye, you are right. His life was toyours as Christ's to a Satyr's: one day of hisbrought forth aharvest that all your ban-en years