I have sacrificed all I love for your sake.

I would die for you this instant--yes! a hundred thousand deaths.

But you will not answer me one little word--" But there was no answer.
"Silencieux! Have you ceased to love me?
Is the dream once more at an end, the magic faded?
Oh, speak--tell me--anything--only speak!" But still Silencieux neither spoke nor smiled.
"Listen, Silencieux," at last cried Antony, beside himself, "unless you answer me, I will die this night, and my blood shall be upon your cruel altar for ever." As he spoke he snatched a dagger from among some bibelots on his mantel, and drew it from its sheath.
"You are proud of your martyrs," he laughed; "see, I will bleed to death for your sake.

In God's name speak." But Silencieux spoke nothing at all.
Then Beatrice, watching in terror, seeing by his face that he would really kill himself, ran round to the door and broke in, crying, "O my poor Antony!" but already he had plunged the dagger amid the veins of his left wrist, and was watching the blood gush out with a strange delight.
As Beatrice burst in, he looked up at her, and mistook her for Silencieux.
"Ah!" he said, "you speak at last.

You love me now, when it is too late--when I am dying." As he said this his face grew white and he fainted away.
For many days Antony lay unconscious, racked by terrible delirium.