It is an old score.
Ah, yes," he continued between his teeth, "it is an old score.
It will be sweet to feel him slowly die with my fingers in his throat." "But they will take you," cried the woman.
"Bah! They could not hold me in Siberia, and think you they can in this land?
But the children," he mused.

"Rosenblatt away." With a sudden resolve he turned to the woman.

"Woman," he said, in a voice stern and low, "could you--" She threw herself once more at his feet in a passion of entreaty.
"Oh, my lord! Let me live for them, for them--and--for you!" "For me ?" he said coldly.

"No.

You have dishonoured my name.
You are wife of mine no longer.