It was his blood; and whatever pits and chasms yawned
between, the spirit of this blood was common. Perhaps some day he
could forgive.
And Diane, she had mocked him, not knowing; she had laughed in his
face, unconscious of the double edge; she had accused him and he had
been without answer. Heaven on earth! to win her, to call her his, to
feel her breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair in his
nostrils! Hedged in, whichever way he turned, whether toward hate or
love! He clutched the handle of his rapier and knotted the muscles of
his arms. He would fight his way toward her; no longer would he
supplicate, he would demand. He would follow her wherever she went,
aye, even back to France! For what had he to lose? Nothing. And all
the world to gain.
Man needs obstacles to overcome to be great either in courage or
magnanimity; he needs the sense of injustice, of wrong, of unmerited
contempt; he needs the wrath against these things without which man
becomes passive like non-carnivorous animals. And had not he
obstacles?--unrequited love, escutcheon to make bright and whole?
From a short distance Brother Jacques contemplated the Chevalier,
gloomily and morosely.
Pages:
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416