Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 5, 2025
Although scarcely four and twenty when I entered the Czar's service, my habits of intimacy with men much older; my customary gravity, reserve, and thought; my freedom, since Isora's death, from youthful levity or excess; my early entrance into the world; and a countenance prematurely marked with the lines of reflection and sobered by its hue, made me appear considerably older than I was.
Would it have been possible for me, man of pleasure and of the world as I was thought to be, no, my good uncle, though it went to my heart to wound thee so secretly, it would /not/ have been possible for me, even if I had not coined my whole nature into love, even if Isora had not been to me what one smile of Isora's really was, it would not have been possible to have sacrificed so noble and so divine a heart, and made myself, in that sacrifice, a wretch forever.
"Thou art the cause of my downfall from Heaven!" I muttered, when I looked upon Isora's calm face: "thou feelest it not, and I could destroy thee and myself, myself the criminal, thee the cause of the crime!" * I need not point out to the novel-reader how completely the character of Aubrey has been stolen in a certain celebrated French romance.
When I expressed this wish to Isora, she looked at me long and wistfully, and then burst into tears. "You will not deceive us," said she, "and I accept your kindness at once, from him I rejected the same offer." "Him? of whom speak you? this Barnard, or rather but I know him!" A startling expression passed over Isora's speaking face.
There, as I looked upon Isora's tranquil and most youthful beauty, over which circled and breathed an ineffable innocence, even as the finer and subtler air, which was imagined by those dreamy bards who kindled the soft creations of naiad and of nymph, to float around a goddess, I could not believe that aught evil awaited one for whom infancy itself seemed to linger, linger as if no elder shape and less delicate hue were meet to be the garment of so much guilelessness and tenderness of heart.
And never, oh, never, did it sink into my heart with a deeper sweetness, or a more soothing balm. I had once more knit my soul to Isora's: I could once more look from the toiling and the dim earth, and forget that Isora had left me, in dreaming of our reunion.
I stood in the same room with Isora and yourself: ye lay in sleep; Isora's face O God! I know no more no more of that night of horror save that I fled from the house reeking with blood, a murderer, and the murderer of Isora! Then came a long, long dream.
And never, oh, never, did it sink into my heart with a deeper sweetness, or a more soothing balm. I had once more knit my soul to Isora's: I could once more look from the toiling and the dim earth, and forget that Isora had left me, in dreaming of our reunion.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking