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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"The Arrow of Gold"

He then, probably, would
get mad and get shut up, or else get cured, forget all about it,
and devote himself to his vocation, whatever it was--keep a shop
and grow fat. All this flashed through my mind in an instant and
while I was still dazzled by those comforting images, the voice of
Dona Rita pulled me up with a jerk.
"You mean not out of the house?"
"No, I mean not out of this room," I said with some embarrassment.
"What do you mean? Is there something in the house then? This is
most extraordinary! Stay in this room? And you, too, it seems?
Are you also afraid for yourself?"
"I can't even give you an idea how afraid I was. I am not so much
now. But you know very well, Dona Rita, that I never carry any
sort of weapon in my pocket."
"Why don't you, then?" she asked in a flash of scorn which
bewitched me so completely for an instant that I couldn't even
smile at it.
"Because if I am unconventionalized I am an old European," I
murmured gently. "No, Excellentissima, I shall go through life
without as much as a switch in my hand. It's no use you being
angry. Adapting to this great moment some words you've heard
before: I am like that. Such is my character!"
Dona Rita frankly stared at me--a most unusual expression for her
to have.


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