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The Angel Of The Revolution | George Chetwynd Griffith | |
From Chaos To Arcadie |
Page 6 of 6 |
Lose her he might to-morrow, but for this one moment she was his and no other man's, let those who would say nay. That instant she was clasped helpless and unresisting in his arms, and her lips were giving his back kiss for kiss. Wreck and chaos might come now for all he cared. She loved him, and had given herself to him, if only for that one moonlit hour. After that he could plunge into the battle again, and slay and spare not--yes, and he would slay without mercy. He would hurl his lightnings from the skies, and where they struck there should be death. If not love and life, then hate and death--it was not his choice. Let those who had chosen see to that; but for the present love and life were his, why should he not live? Then the mad, sweet delirium passed and saner thoughts came. He released her suddenly, almost brusquely, and said with a harsh ring in his voice-- "Why did you come? Have you forgotten what so nearly happened the day before yesterday?" "No, I have not forgotten it. I have remembered it, and that is why I came to tell you--what you know now." Her face was rosy enough now, and she looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke, proud to confess the mastery that he had won. "Now listen," she went on, speaking in a low, quick, passionate tone. "The will of the Master must be done. There is no appeal from that, either for you or me. He can dispose of me as he chooses, and I shall obey, as I warned you I should when you first told me that you would win me if you could. |
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The Angel Of The Revolution George Chetwynd Griffith |
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