human
In spite of your shame, _you_ can sleep? They said to your face that as a priest you were a fraud, as a knight you were a failure; neither priest nor knight. How they disgraced us in the presence of so many people! Like a hunchback, they threw it in my face that you were my lover, and you stood there like a pillar of salt and did not say that it was true or untrue. I looked at you just to see what you would do; whether you would take counsel of your heart. You looked about you; the dancers' swords were together in a corner; perhaps you would seize me, cast your cowl from you and say, 'It is true, I am Tihamer Csorbai, and that woman there is my wife, and he who dares come between us is a dead man.' You did not do so. On the contrary, you gazed toward Heaven. I waited patiently to see if you would say, 'I am Father Peter, I am a priest, and on my priestly oath I say she is free from my love,--if she were as free from other sins, she might be counted among the saints.' But this too you did not do. You dropped your head when the Bishop called out at you. And you submitted when the other monks struck at you with their scourges. Oh, how detestable you were! If you really had been my lover, I would have spit at you--in your face--yes, right in your face! Behind your back, they said that you were not worthy of the name of priest, that you were no priest and never had been one, and even if you had, they would have driven you out; you were a timid, cowardly soldier who endured the scourge because he feared the sword. What will you do now? Will you creep behind the cross that Christ Himself may drive you away? Will you let them beat this monk's cowl of yours from town to town? Do your vows require you to bring your priesthood into disgrace, and become a stone of offence at sight of which every one stands aside, even if they are in the height of the dance; and at sight of whom the common people will flee from the church when they see you at the altar?
gpt
Can you sleep? Why not? It is an easy thing for a man to choke down disgrace. But I am a woman, and I am lying on scorpions. In the presence of the noblest of the land you made me an object of scorn to the whole world. There will be the report of it everywhere. The beggar-student will sing my story from window to window. Peddlers will carry from village to village the story of Father Peter and the Lady of Madocsany, and hawk it about for two denarii, pictures thrown in. What a disgrace! You can hide yourself away under your cowl, that is a good place for you! But where shall I hide myself? How can I endure the glance of people--that constant blow in the face? Where shall I shut myself in, so that no human being can find me? Where shall I lose myself, so that even I cannot find me? How shall I live or die on these thorns? What's that to you--do you say? Ha ha! You say God has punished me, and you are satisfied. You drawl out your prayers and fall asleep over them.
human
Are you awake? The cock is crowing, the day is dawning at last. The night is long for those who cannot close their eyes. Why do you avoid talking with me? I despise you from the bottom of my heart. If you were as great a jewel as you are a piece of clay, I would not reach out my hand to take you up. Keep your love for the angels, or for Beelzebub, it is all one to me. All I ask from you is my honor. If you are a man of honor, if you are a Christian, you must know what your duty is. The offence was an open one, and it must be openly satisfied. Listen to me, and then consider at your leisure. You and I will go over to the Protestant church. We will go to Saros-Patak, or to Klausenburg, and there this can take place without delay. The six weeks' instruction is superfluous. We will marry. I need nothing more except your name--the name still honored. You surely do not want all the world to call me Mrs. Father Peter. You are not Emerich Thurzo; his wife can be called Mrs. Bishop, night or day, but Mrs. Monk--no one can say that by daylight. The price for my torn veil is the cap of Mrs. Tihamer Csorbai. Beyond that, I do not care whether you love me, or do not love me, or whether you love another. You can go away, when you cannot stand it any longer, or you can stay. It does not matter to me what you answer; my decision is made; in defiance of the Bishop, I am going to be a Calvinist; and I am going to marry a second time, if not you, then somebody else; but it is fitting that I should recover my honor by the man by whom I lost it. But I will not beseech you any longer. Do not be afraid that I shall crawl after you on my hands and knees. Two words can separate us; if you say, 'No, No,' then I say, 'Nor I, either,' and you shall never enter my gate again. To the threshold you may come, and I will count out to you your money, and then we will never breathe the same air again.