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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"Scaramouche"

"
"Wounded? I had not seen his wound. I saw him sitting alive and
apparently unhurt in his caleche, and I concluded that he had
killed you as he had said he would. What else could I conclude?"
He saw light, dazzling, blinding, and it scared him. He fell back,
a hand to his brow. "And that was why you fainted?" he asked
incredulously.
She looked at him without answering. As she began to realize how
much she had been swept into saying by her eagerness to make him
realize his error, a sudden fear came creeping into her eyes.
He held out both hands to her.
"Aline! Aline!" His voice broke on the name. "It was I... "
"O blind Andre, it was always you - always! Never, never did I
think of him, not even for loveless marriage, save once for a
little while, when... when that theatre girl came into your life,
and then... " She broke off, shrugged, and turned her head away.
"I thought of following ambition, since there was nothing left
to follow."
He shook himself. "I am dreaming, of course, or else I am mad,"
he said.


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