Doltaire! Doltaire!
The name burnt into my brain. Some prescient quality in me awaked,
and I saw her the sacrifice of her imagination, of the dramatic
beauty of her nature, my enemy her tyrant and destroyer. He would
leave nothing undone to achieve his end, and do nothing that would
not in the end poison her soul and turn her very glories into
miseries. How could she withstand the charm of his keen knowledge
of the world, the fascination of his temperament, the alluring
eloquence of his frank wickedness? And I should rather a million
times see her in her grave than passed through the atmosphere of
his life.
This may seem madness, selfish and small; but after-events went
far to justify my fears and imaginings, for behind there was a
love, an aching, absorbing solicitude. I can not think that my
anxiety was all vulgar smallness then.
I called him by coarse names, as I tramped up and down my
dungeon; I cursed him; impotent contempt was poured out on him;
in imagination I held him there before me, and choked him till
his eyes burst out and his body grew limp in my arms.
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