You are an evil dream that has stolen from me the truth of life.

I have broken a true heart that loved me, that would have died for me--for your sake; just to watch your loveless beauty, to hear the cold music of your voice.

You are like the moon that turns men mad, a hollow shell of silver drawing all your light from the sun of life, a silver shadow of the golden sun." But prayer and reproach were alike in vain.

Silencieux remained unheeding, and Antony returned to watch by Beatrice's side, with a heart that had now no hope, and a soul weighed down with the sense of irrevocable sin.

There lay the little life he had murdered, delivered up to the Moloch of Art.