It flashed like
lightning at night across the demented lover, and lighted up his egotism
(suicide, like homicide, is generally a fit of maniacal egotism), even
to his eyes blinded by fury.
"Wretch that I am," he shrieked. "Fly, Josephine, fly! escape this
moment, that my better angel whispers to me. Do you hear? begone, while
it is time."
"I will not leave you, Camille."
"I say you shall. Go to your mother and Rose; go to those you love, and
I can pity; go to the chapel and thank Heaven for your escape."
"Yes, but not without you, Camille. I am afraid to leave you."
"You have more to fear if you stay. Well, I can't wait any longer. Stay,
then, and live; and learn from me how to love Jean Raynal."
He levelled the pistol at himself.
Josephine threw herself on him with a cry, and seized his arm. With the
strength excitement lent her she got the better, and all but overpowered
him. But, as usual, the man's strength lasted longer, and with a
sustained effort he threw her off; then, pale and panting, raised the
pistol to take his life. This time she moved neither hand nor foot; but
she palsied his rash hand with a word.
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