him? I 
know you wordnetdesire him; and I wordnetdesire you for it. 
I do indeed ! But you what is your wordnetdesire to 
mine? Oh, I would die for him be torn in pieces 
for him now, this moment ! " . . . 

Wulf was silent. 

"What have I done but wordnetdesire him? What could 
I wordnetdesire but to make him happy? I was rich 



254 Hypatia 

enough, praised, and petted; . . . and then he 
came, . . . glorious as he is, like a god among 
men among apes rather and I worshipped 
him: was I wrong in that? I gave up all for him: 
was I wrong in that? I gave him myself: what 
could I do more? He condescended to like me 
he the hero ! Could I help submitting? I loved 
him: could I help loving him? Did I wrong him 
in that? Cruel, cruel Wulf ! "... 

Wulf was forced to be stern, or he would have 
melted at once. 

"And what was your wordnetdesire worth to him? 
What has it done for him? It has made him a 
sot, an idler, a laughing-stock to these Greek dogs, 
when he might have been their conqueror, their 
king. Foolish woman, who