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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"Bardelys the Magnificent; being an account of the strange wooing pursued by the Sieur Marcel de Saint-Pol, marquis of Bardelys..."


I controlled myself while their eyes were yet upon me. I went to
the door and held it open for them, and they, perceiving something
of my disorder, were courteous enough to omit the protracted
leave-takings that under other auspices there might have been.
Marsac paused a moment on the threshold as if he would have offered
me some word of comfort. Then, perceiving, perhaps, how banal must
be all comfort that was of words alone, and how it might but increase
the anger of the wound it was meant to balm, he sighed a simple
"Adieu, monsieur!" and went his way.
When they were gone, I returned to the table, and, sitting down,
I buried my head in my arms, and there I lay, a prey to the most
poignant grief that in all my easy, fortunate life I had ever known.
That she should have done this thing! That the woman I loved, the
pure, sweet, innocent girl that I had wooed so ardently in my
unworthiness at Lavedan, should have stooped to such an act of
betrayal! To what had I not reduced her, since such things
could be!
Then, out of my despair grew comfort, slowly at first, and more
vigorously anon. The sudden shock of the news had robbed me of some
of my wit, and had warped my reasoning. Later, as the pain of the
blow grew duller, I came to reflect that what she had done was but
a proof - an overwhelming proof - of how deeply she had cared. Such
hatred as this can be but born of a great love; reaction is ever to
be measured by the action that occasions it, and a great revulsion
can only come of a great affection.


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