He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Her father for fifteen years, and you now for the rest of her life! Tell her you're a thief. But we waste time. "She is in his power, and I am here, chained hand and foot, unable to assist her.
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