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Updated: June 12, 2025
She gave him a look of love and trust as he went though there was a secret tremor in her heart, for she knew, perhaps better than he, how strong was the power of Silencieux. But in Antony's heart was no misgiving, or backsliding.
As Antony and Silencieux became more and more to each other, poor Beatrice, though she had been the first occasion of their love, and little as she now demanded, seldom as Antony spoke to her, seldom as he smiled upon her, distant as were the lonely walks she took, infrequent as was her sad footfall in the little wood, poor Beatrice, though indeed, so far from active intrusion upon their loves, and as if only by her breathing with them the heavy air of that green unwholesome valley, was becoming an irksome presence of the imagination.
As Beatrice burst in, he looked up at her, and mistook her for Silencieux. "Ah!" he said, "you speak at last. You love me now, when it is too late when I am dying." As he said this his face grew white and he fainted away. For many days Antony lay unconscious, racked by terrible delirium. The doctor called it brain fever.
Il devint silencieux. 'N'etes- vous pas content de votre journee? lui dis-je. 'O, si! mais je reflechis, et je me dis que vous etes un peuple gai tous ces braves gens etaient gais aujourd'hui.
"You have been very cruel, Silencieux." "Yes, very cruel, but very kind. It is true men have died for me. I have been cruel, yes, but to die for me has seemed better than to live for any other. And some of my lovers I have never forsaken. When they have lost all in the world, they have had me.
But worst of all was to hear himself saying in the silence of his soul, over and over again without any power to still it, as one is forced sometimes to hear the beating of one's heart: "Silencieux, I bring you my little child." There were times he heard this so plainly when he was with Beatrice that he had to leave her and walk for hours alone.
He was afraid of the sea, for the sea was Silencieux's for ever. In its depths lay a magic harp which filled all its waves with music music lovely and accursed, the voice of Silencieux. That he must never hear again. He would pile the hills against his ears.
Then on a sudden, what was this change in Silencieux! So cold, so silent, so cruel, had she grown. "Silencieux," Antony called to her. "Silencieux," he pleaded. But she never spoke. "O Silencieux, speak! I cannot bear it." Then her lips moved. "Shall I speak?" she said, with a cruel smile. "Yes," he besought her again. "I shall love you no more in this world.
Once more he turned the key in the lock, and looked on Silencieux once more. The moonlight fell over her face like a veil of silver, and on her eyelashes was a glitter of tears. Her face was alive again, alive too with a softness of womanhood he had never seen before. "Forgive me, Antony," she said. "I loved you all the time." What else need Silencieux say!
There is no one but I who can give you back your little Wonder no one but I who can give you back anything you have lost. If you love me faithfully, Antony there is nothing you can lose but in me you will find it again." Antony bowed his head, his heart breaking for Beatrice but who is not powerless against his own soul? "Listen," said Silencieux again.
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