He was inclined even
to brush them aside, to consider them more as an incident in his
career. He associated her now with all those plans concerning the
future which he had been dimly formulating since the climax of his
successes had come. She was of the world which he sought to enter
- at once the stimulus and the object of his desires. He forgot
all about Da Souza and his threats, about the broken-down,
half-witted old man who was gazing with wistful eyes across the
ocean which kept him there, an exile - he remembered nothing save
the wonderful, new thing which had come into his life. A month ago
he would have scoffed at the idea of there being anything worth
considering outside the courts and alleys of the money-changers'
market. To-night he knew of other things. To-night he knew that
all he had done so far was as nothing - that as yet his foot was
planted only on the threshold of life, and in the path along which
he must hew his way lay many fresh worlds to conquer. To-night he
told himself that he was equal to them all. There was something
out here in the dim moonlight, something suggested by the shadows,
the rose-perfumed air, the delicate and languid stillness, which
crept into his veins and coursed through his blood like magic.
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