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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"The Arrow of Gold"

Not this time." A mist seemed to fall
before my eyes. I could hardly see the girl standing by the closed
door of the Pempeiian room with extended hand, as if turned to
stone. But my voice was firm enough. "Not this time," I repeated,
and became aware of the great noise of the wind amongst the trees,
with the lashing of a rain squall against the door.
"Perhaps some other time," I added.
I heard her say twice to herself: "Mon Dieu! Mon, Dieu!" and then
a dismayed: "What can Monsieur expect me to do?" But I had to
appear insensible to her distress and that not altogether because,
in fact, I had no option but to go away. I remember also a
distinct wilfulness in my attitude and something half-contemptuous
in my words as I laid my hand on the knob of the front door.
"You will tell Madame that I am gone. It will please her. Tell
her that I am gone--heroically."
Rose had come up close to me. She met my words by a despairing
outward movement of her hands as though she were giving everything
up.
"I see it clearly now that Madame has no friends," she declared
with such a force of restrained bitterness that it nearly made me
pause. But the very obscurity of actuating motives drove me on and
I stepped out through the doorway muttering: "Everything is as
Madame wishes it.


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