She stood half-clothed by the casement window, illuminated by the full moon's gentle light, hair loose and features made pale and pure, looking for all the world like some angel or demon of fable...but her eyes were distant, vaguely bitter, detracting harshly from the otherworldly image...and even as he called her thus, all that Iago could hear was "I am sorry for it..."
She had no right to pity him. She had no right to express sorrow of any kind, when she had been as much a party to this mischance as any other. His doing, all, to be sure, but the words, the final, condemning words were hers, and therefore she ought to suffer as he did...!
...Did a snapping mind manifest itself thusly? A dizzying storm of thoughts whirling through it, raging emotions breaking loose and faltering away in a heartbeat, sentiments felt and renounced in turn? A clamor of voices, all striving to be heard, all wishing to speak their wishes aloud, never mind the detriment to those spoken to? A massive, terrifying blackness, broken with clarity's light flashing unbidden, overwhelming the senses? Was this what madness was?
...Or was it merely fury, that made him stagger to his feet and stride to the other side of the room, that bid him grab Emilia's shoulder and wheel her round, that made words ravaged and enraged stream forth from his mouth, like a poisonous river in the air?
"You are sorry for it?! You fool; do you think empty platitudes will console me? By God, you speak of what you do not know! Know you what it is, to have all you have worked for, all you have known, torn away from you in one fell swoop? Know you how it feels, to have your world turned on its head for one lapse in judgement? Do not presume to tell me you are sorry, when you know nothing of any of this! Do you hear me?! Do not dare!"