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Updated: June 22, 2025
He had jested so much with love that he entered upon that conversation with a jest; when, having tried to take Alba's hand to press a kiss upon it, he saw that it was bandaged. "What has happened to you, little Countess? Have my laurels or those of Florent Chapron prevented you from sleeping, that you are here with the classical wrist of a duellist?... Seriously, how have you hurt yourself?"
It would have satisfied him had he observed, instead of meditated, that the truth with regard to the author of the anonymous letters might have become clear to him, as clear as the courage of Madame Steno in meeting danger as the blind confidence of Madame Gorka as the disdainful imperturbability of Maitland before his rival and the suppressed rage of that rival as the finesse of Hafner in sustaining the general conversation as the assiduous attentions of Ardea to Fanny as the emotion of the latter as clear as Alba's sense of relief.
At last Fadrique exclaimed, "Oh, foolish being! she thinks to daunt me, and yet she places herself before me, an alluring and irresistible war-prize!" And as if magic wings had sprung from his shoulders, he began to fly up the height with such rapidity that Alba's violent descent seemed but a lazy snail's pace.
It is frightful to know it, but one suffers less To know it' As if I did not know she had lovers before me, as if it were not written on Alba's every feature that she is Werekiew's child, as if I had not heard it said seventy times before knowing her that she had loved Branciforte, San Giobbe, Strabane, ten others. Before, during, or after, what difference does it make?
He thought he was doing right in corroborating the story of Boleslas Gorka's madness, which he knew better than any one else to be false. But was it not the surest means of exempting Madame Steno from connection with the affair? Why had he seen Alba's beautiful eyes veiled with a sadness inexplicable, as if he had just given her another blow?
When the American attempted to take Alba's portrait the first time, the Pole put a stop to it. It was fine for Montfanon to talk of division between these two men. When Boleslas left here, Maitland and the Countess were barely acquainted and now If he has returned it is because he has discovered that he has a rival. Some one has warned him an enemy of the Countess, a confrere of Maitland.
He had jested so much with love that he entered upon that conversation with a jest; when, having tried to take Alba's hand to press a kiss upon it, he saw that it was bandaged. "What has happened to you, little Countess? Have my laurels or those of Florent Chapron prevented you from sleeping, that you are here with the classical wrist of a duellist?.... Seriously, how have you hurt yourself?"
He thought he was doing right in corroborating the story of Boleslas Gorka's madness, which he knew better than any one else to be false. But was it not the surest means of exempting Madame Steno from connection with the affair? Why had he seen Alba's beautiful eyes veiled with a sadness inexplicable, as if he had just given her another blow?
It is frightful to know it, but one suffers less To know it' As if I did not know she had lovers before me, as if it were not written on Alba's every feature that she is Werekiew's child, as if I had not heard it said seventy times before knowing her that she had loved Branciforte, San Giobbe, Strabane, ten others. Before, during, or after, what difference does it make?
The rush of wind had blown out the lamp in Clelia Alba's hand. When, after fumbling vainly for some minutes to find the door, and bruising her hands against the wall and oaken chair, she at last found it and thrust it open, the night without was moonless and starless and stormy, and in its unillumined blackness she saw no trace of the little girl.
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