Holding his cigarette between his teeth he clasped his fingers together
tightly, unclasped them again and let his arms fall on each side of him.
At last he turned sharply, as though resolved what to do.
He believed that he was on the very eve of recovering a vast fortune and
of resuming a high position in the world. It was no wonder that there was
a struggle in his soul, when at that moment a new complication seemed to
present itself. He was indeed sure that he did not love Vjera, and in the
brilliant dreams which floated before his half-closed eyes, visions of
beautiful and high-born women dazzled him with their smiles and enchanted
him by the perfect grace of their movements. To-morrow he might choose his
wife among such as they. But to-day Vjera was by his side, poor Vjera, who
alone of those he had known during the years of his captivity had stood by
him, had felt for him, had given him a sense of reliance in her perfect
sincerity and honest affection. And her affection had grown into something
more; it had developed into love during the last months. He had seen it,
had known it and had done nothing to arrest the growth. Nay, he had done
worse. Only a moment ago he had taken her hand in a way which might well
mislead an innocent girl. The Count, according to his lights, was the very
incarnation of the theory, honour, in the practice, honesty. His path was
clear. If he had deceived Vjera in the very smallest accent of word or
detail of deed he must make instant reparation.
Pages:
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39