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Updated: June 26, 2025
"In this letter," resumed Faringhea, "Van Dael tells you that the greatest glory of your Order is to make 'a corpse of man. Our work also is to make corpses of men. Man's death is sweet to Bowanee." "But sir," cried Rodin, "M. Van Dael speaks of the soul, of the will, of the mind, which are to be brought down by discipline." "It is true you kill the soul, and we the body.
After some instants of contemplation, he said: "What o'clock is it?" but he asked this question of himself, rather than of any third person. "It will soon be two o'clock, my lord," said Faringhea. Having heard this answer, Djalma seated himself, and hid his face in his hands, as if completely absorbed in some ineffable meditation.
Whether from absence of mind, or that the shadow of the orange-loft completely concealed the half-caste, Rodin dipped his fingers into the font without perceiving Faringhea, who stood motionless as a statue, though a cold sweat streamed from his brow. The prayer of Rodin was, as may be supposed, short; he was in haste to get to the Rue Saint-Francois.
The prince started. It was time to go on his visit to Adrienne. The handsome countenance of Djalma, doubly embellished by the mild, ineffable expression with which it had been animated whilst he was talking to the half-caste, now seemed illumined with almost divine radiance. Approaching Faringhea, he extended his hand with the utmost, grace and courtesy, saying to him, "Your hand!"
"And who kept you so well informed, sir, of the prince's habits?" said Faringhea, unable to control his vexation. "If I have been well informed as to his habits, my dear sir, I have had no such correct knowledge of yours," answered Dupont, with a mocking air; "for I assure you that I had no more notion of seeing you than you had of seeing me."
By turns a prey to the most burning agitation, and to a kind of stupor, in which he plunged himself to escape from the thoughts that caused his tortures, Djalma lay stretched upon a divan, with his face buried in his hands, as if to shut out the view of a too enchanting vision. Suddenly, without knocking at the door, as usual, Faringhea entered the prince's apartment.
But, if it had failed, Faringhea would still have fallen into the hands of Goliath and Morok, who are waiting for him in the street, a few steps from the door. Only we should have been rather embarrassed, as we should not have known where to find Prince Djalma." "More violence!" said Father d'Aigrigny, with repugnance.
Let me leave you, my lord! I will go alone to this interview." So saying, Faringhea made a movement, as if he would spring from the carriage. Djalma held him by the arm, and said: "Remain! I wilt not leave you. If you are betrayed, you shall not shed blood. Contempt will avenge and friendship will console you." "No, no, my lord; I am resolved.
"So, sir," said Faringhea, as he withdrew, slowly, "you refuse my offers? Take care! to-morrow it will be too late." "I have the honor to be your most humble servant, sir," said Rodin, bowing courteously. The Strangler went out, and the door closed upon him. Immediately, Father d'Aigrigny entered from the next room. His countenance was pale and agitated.
Then, seeing a body of soldiers advancing cautiously in a circle, he dealt one of them a mortal stroke, threw down two others, and disappeared in the midst of the ruins. All this passed so instantaneously, that, when Djalma turned round, to ascertain the cause of the negro's cry of alarm, Faringhea had already disappeared.
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