Yet she did not hear him—­she was still in the grip of the fiend.  Jurgis could see her outstretched hands, shaking and twitching, roaming here and there over the bed at will, like living things; he could see convulsive shudderings start in her body and run through her limbs.  She was sobbing and choking—­it was as if there were too many sounds for one throat, they came chasing each other, like waves upon the sea.  Then her voice would begin to rise into screams, louder and louder until it broke in wild, horrible peals of laughter.  Jurgis bore it until he could bear it no longer, and then he sprang at her, seizing her by the shoulders and shaking her, shouting into her ear:  “Stop it, I say!  Stop it!”

She looked up at him, out of her agony; then she fell forward at his feet.  She caught them in her hands, in spite of his efforts to step aside, and with her face upon the floor lay writhing.  It made a choking in Jurgis’ throat to hear her, and he cried again, more savagely than before:  “Stop it, I say!”

This time she heeded him, and caught her breath and lay silent, save for the gasping sobs that wrenched all her frame.  For a long minute she lay there, perfectly motionless, until a cold fear seized her husband, thinking that she was dying.  Suddenly, however, he heard her voice, faintly:  “Jurgis!  Jurgis!”

“What is it?” he said.

He had to bend down to her, she was so weak.  She was pleading with him, in broken phrases, painfully uttered:  “Have faith in me!  Believe me!”

“Believe what?” he cried.

“Believe that I—­that I know best—­that I love you!  And do not ask me—­what you did.  Oh, Jurgis, please, please!  It is for the best—­it is—­”

He started to speak again, but she rushed on frantically, heading him off.  “If you will only do it!  If you will only—­only believe me!  It wasn’t my fault—­I couldn’t help it—­it will be all right—­it is nothing—­it is no harm.  Oh, Jurgis—­please, please!”

She had hold of him, and was trying to raise herself to look at him; he could feel the palsied shaking of her hands and the heaving of the bosom she pressed against him.  She managed to catch one of his hands and gripped it convulsively, drawing it to her face, and bathing it in her tears.  “Oh, believe me, believe me!” she wailed again; and he shouted in fury, “I will not!”

But still she clung to him, wailing aloud in her despair:  “Oh, Jurgis, think what you are doing!  It will ruin us—­it will ruin us!  Oh, no, you must not do it!  No, don’t, don’t do it.  You must not do it!  It will drive me mad—­it will kill me—­no, no, Jurgis, I am crazy—­it is nothing.  You do not really need to know.  We can be happy—­we can love each other just the same.  Oh, please, please, believe me!”

Her words fairly drove him wild.  He tore his hands loose, and flung her off.  “Answer me,” he cried.  “God damn it, I say—­answer me!”

She sank down upon the floor, beginning to cry again.  It was like listening to the moan of a damned soul, and Jurgis could not stand it.  He smote his fist upon the table by his side, and shouted again at her, “Answer me!”