“I killed him. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. The beach: to get there as quickly as he could, to reach the white man's nadir of abasement and gather the promise of that soothing indifference which comes with the final disintegration of the fibres of conscience. "Gad! it's a devilish fine face when lit up. “—but this cannot be. "I don't know what his idea was. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. “Gross. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. Don’t be late if you can help it. "I haven't any answer for that; but I'm going back after her.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 28-09-2024 18:49:00