It will bear another.

Tell me that what I saw had no reality--that you did not make him sleep--here, on this spot, before my eyes--that you did not pour your love into his sleeping ears, that you did not command, implore, entreat--and fail! What is it all to me, whether you speak truth or not?
Tell me it is not true that I would die a thousand martyrdoms for your sake, as you are, and if you were a thousand times worse than you are! Your wrong, your right, your truth, your falsehood, you yourself are swallowed up in the love I bear you! I love you always, and I will say it, and say it again--ah, your eyes! I love them, too! Take me into them, Unorna--whether in hate or love--but in love--yes--love--Unorna--golden Unorna!" With the cry on his lips--the name he had given her in other days--he made one mad step forwards, throwing out his arms as though to clasp her to him.

But it was too late.

Even while he had been speaking her mysterious influence had overpowered him, as he had known that it would, when she so pleased.
She caught his two hands in the air, and pressed him back and held him against the tall slab.

The whole pitilessness of her nature gleamed like a cold light in her white face.
"There was a martyr of your race once," she said in cruel tones.