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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

" And he did. And told me just what you did--
that it was an affair of honour, and no blame attached to you. O,
I must say I like that Major Chevenix!'
At this I was seized with a great pang of jealousy. I remembered
the first time that he had seen her, the interest that he seemed
immediately to conceive; and I could not but admire the dog for the
use he had been ingenious enough to make of our acquaintance in
order to supplant me. All is fair in love and war. For all that,
I was now no less anxious to do the speaking myself than I had been
before to hear Flora. At least, I could keep clear of the hateful
image of Major Chevenix. Accordingly I burst at once on the
narrative of my adventures. It was the same as you have read, but
briefer, and told with a very different purpose. Now every
incident had a particular bearing, every by-way branched off to
Rome--and that was Flora.
When I had begun to speak I had kneeled upon the gravel withoutside
the low window, rested my arms upon the sill, and lowered my voice
to the most confidential whisper. Flora herself must kneel upon
the other side, and this brought our heads upon a level with only
the bars between us. So placed, so separated, it seemed that our
proximity, and the continuous and low sounds of my pleading voice,
worked progressively and powerfully on her heart, and perhaps not
less so on my own.


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