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"You are growing blase," he said. "You have not only renounced
life, with its interests and social ties, but the duties of a citizen
and a man; you have not only renounced the friends whom I know
you to have had, and every aim in life but that of winning
money; but you have also renounced your memory. Though I can
remember you in the strong, ardent period of your life, I feel
persuaded that you have now forgotten every better feeling of
that period--that your present dreams and aspirations of
subsistence do not rise above pair, impair rouge, noir, the
twelve middle numbers, and so forth."
"Enough, Mr. Astley!" I cried with some irritation--almost in
anger. "Kindly do not recall to me any more recollections, for
I can remember things for myself. Only for a time have I put
them out of my head. Only until I shall have rehabilitated
myself, am I keeping my memory dulled. When that hour shall come,
you will see me arise from the dead."
"Then you will have to be here another ten years," he replied.
"Should I then be alive, I will remind you--here, on this very
bench--of what I have just said. In fact, I will bet you a wager
that I shall do so."
"Say no more," I interrupted impatiently. "And to show you
that I have not wholly forgotten the past, may I enquire where
Mlle. Polina is? If it was not you who bailed me out of prison,
it must have been she. Yet never have I heard a word concerning
her."
"No, I do not think it was she. At the present moment she is in
Switzerland, and you will do me a favour by ceasing to ask me
these questions about her." Astley said this with a firm, and
even an angry, air.
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