Then,
laughing softly, 'There is an Egyptian proverb which runs thus:
"If thou, Dol, son of Hoshti, hast emptied out thy heart, and
it bring no fruit in exchange, curse not thy gods and die, but
build a pyramid in the vineyard where thy love was spent, and
write upon it, Pride hath no conqueror."' It is a mind for a
palace, is it not?"
I could see in the mirror facing him the provoking devilry of
his eyes. I knew that he was trying how much he could stir me. He
guessed my love for her, but I could see he was sure that she no
longer--if she ever had--thought of me. Besides, with a lover's
understanding, I saw also that he liked to talk of her. His eyes, in
the mirror, did not meet mine, but were fixed, as on some distant
and pleasing prospect, though there was, as always, a slight disdain
at his mouth. But the eyes were clear, resolute, and strong, never
wavering--and I never saw them waver--yet in them something distant
and inscrutable. It was a candid eye, and he was candid in his evil;
he made no pretense; and though the means to his ends were wicked,
they were never low.
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