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68 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
be free from all supervision ! Oh, what would 1 not give
to be independent ! Matrimony is abominable ! Isn’t it
so, darling? " She turned towards the Baron, who had
been listening to her good-naturedly.
"Yes, it is dull," he agreed, smilingly.
Dinner was ready and the banquet began. The first
glass of wine made us feel merry, but all of a sudden,
remembering the occasion for our unceremonious meeting,
a feeling of sadness mingled with our enjoyment. We
began to talk of the pleasant days we had spent together.
In imagination we again passed through all the little adven-
tures of our excursions. And our eyes shone, our hearts
beat more quickly, we shook hands and clinked glasses
with one another.
The hours passed rapidly, and we realised with growing
distress that the moment of parting was approaching. At
a sign from his wife the Baron produced an opal ring from
his pocket and held it out to me.
"Here, my dear old fellow,’- he said, ’’take this little
keepsake as a token of our gratitude for the friendship
which you have shown us. May fate give you your heart’s
desire ! This is my sincerest wish, for I love you as a
brother and respect you as a man of honour ! A pleasant
journey ! We will not say ’
farewell,’ but ’
to the day of
our next meeting.’
"
As a man of honour ? Had he guessed my motive ?
Read my conscience ? Not at all ! . . . For in well-chosen
words, anxious to explain his little speech, he burst out
into a string of abuse of poor Selma ; he accused her of
having broken her word, of having sold herself to a man
who . . . well, to a man whom she did not love, a man
who owed his happiness merely to my extraordinary
decency.
My extraordinary decency! I felt ashamed, but,
carried away by the sincerity of this simple heart, which
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