He flung himself upon his knees before Sir Crispin, and passionately he pleaded for the sparing of his miserable life.
Crispin looked on with an eye both of scorn and of cold relish.

It was thus he wished to see him, broken and agonized, suffering thus something of all that which he himself had suffered through despair in the years that were sped.

With satisfaction then he watched his victim's agony; he watched it too with scorn and some loathing--for a craven was in his eyes an ugly sight, and Joseph in that moment was truly become as vile a coward as ever man beheld.

His parchment-like face was grey and mottled, his brow bedewed with sweat; his lips were blue and quivering, his eyes bloodshot and almost threatening tears.
In the silence of one who waits stood Crispin, listening, calm and unmoved, as though he heard not, until Joseph's whining prayers culminated in an offer to make reparation.

Then Crispin broke in at length with an impatient gesture.
"What reparation can you make, you murderer?
Can you restore to me the wife and child you butchered eighteen years ago ?" "I can restore your child at least," returned the other.