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Updated: June 22, 2025
He was arrested in his hasty passage by Cecilia Halkett. She handed him a telegraphic message: Rosamund requested him to stay two days in Bevisham. She said additionally: 'Perfectly well. Shall fear to see you returning yet. Have sent to Tourdestelle. All his friends. Ni espoir, ni crainte, mais point de deceptions. Lumiere. Ce sont les tenebres qui tuent.
She was Renee, the girl of whom he had prophetically said that she must come to regrets and tears. His vision of her was not at Tourdestelle, though he assumed her to be there awaiting him: she was under the sea-shadowing Alps, looking up to the red and gold-rosed heights of a realm of morning that was hers inviolably, and under which Renee was eternally his.
Her brother Roland sent tidings of her by fits, and sometimes a conventional message from Tourdestelle. Latterly her husband's name had been cited as among the wildfires of Parisian quays, in journals more or less devoted to those unreclaimed spaces of the city. Well, if she was unhappy, was it not the fulfilment of his prophecy in Venice? Renee's brevity became luminous.
The proposal for her return grew hideous: and this ever multiplying horror and sting of the love of a married woman came on him with a fresh throbbing shock, more venom. He felt for himself now, and now he was full of feeling for her. Impossible that she should return! Tourdestelle shone to him like a gaping chasm of fire.
He uncrossed his legs deliberately, drooped hat in hand, and came paddling over; apologized indolently, and said, 'I am not, I believe, trespassing on the grounds of Tourdestelle, Madame la Marquise! 'You happen to be in my boat, M. le Comte, said Renee. 'Permit me, madame. He had set one foot on shore, with his back to Beauchamp, and reached a hand to assist her step into the boat.
She was Renee, the girl of whom he had prophetically said that she must come to regrets and tears. His vision of her was not at Tourdestelle, though he assumed her to be there awaiting him: she was under the sea-shadowing Alps, looking up to the red and gold-rosed heights of a realm of morning that was hers inviolably, and under which Renee was eternally his.
Alive to his own indirectness, he was conscious at once of the slight sign of reservation, and said: 'Tell me... and swerved sheer away from his question: 'how is Madame d'Auffray? 'Agnes? I left her at Tourdestelle, said Renee. 'And Roland? He never writes to me. 'Neither he nor I write much. He is at the military camp of instruction in the North. 'He will run over to us.
'You rode here from Tourdestelle, then, said Renee. 'Has he been one of the company, marquise? 'Did he ride by you without speaking, Roland? 'Thus. Roland described a Spanish caballero's formallest salutation, saying to Beauchamp, 'Not the best sample of our young Frenchman; woman- spoiled! Not that the better kind of article need be spoiled by them heaven forbid that!
'Good God! if you were free! She faltered: 'At Tourdestelle . . . 'Yes, and I am unchanged, Beauchamp cried out. 'Your life there was horrible, and mine's intolerable. He stretched his arms cramped like the yawning of a wretch in fetters.
He had only to imagine himself away from her, to feel the flood of joy in being with her. 'Your husband is travelling? 'It is his pleasure. Could she have intended to say that this was good news to give of him as well as of the happiness of her father and brother? 'Now look on Tourdestelle, said Renee.
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