'I trusted you! I loved you--but I have loved a villain and believed a liar, and I am a prisoner under a coward's roof!' Beseeching, he tried to lay his hand upon her sleeve; she mistook his meaning.

'Take care!' she cried, and suddenly the revolver was in her hand.

'Take care, I say! A nun is only a woman after all!' He threw himself in front of her in an instant, his arms wide out, and as the muzzle came close against his chest, he gave the familiar word of command in a loud, clear tone: 'Fire!' Their eyes met, and they were both mad.
'If you despise me for loving you beyond honour and disgrace, then fire, for I would rather die by your hand than live without you! I am ready! Pull the trigger! Let the end be here, this instant!' He believed that she would do it, and for one awful moment she had felt that she was going to kill him.

Then she lowered the weapon and laid it on the chair beside her with slow deliberation, though her hands shook so much that she almost dropped it.

As if no longer seeing him, she turned to the door, folded her hands on the panel, and leaned her forehead against them.
He heard her voice, low and trembling: 'Forgive us our sins, as we forgive them that trespass against us!' His own hand was on the revolver to do what she had refused to do.