I thought of Dale and I felt miserably guilty, horribly
ashamed. How could I expect him to believe me when I told him that I had
not wittingly stolen her affections from him. And her affections? _Bon
Dieu_! What on earth could I do with them? What is the use of a woman's
love to a dead man? And did I want it even for the tiny remainder of
life?
Anastasius, perceiving that I paid but scant attention to his
conversation, wriggled off his chair and stood before me with folded
arms.
"You adore each other with a great passion," he said. "She is my
Madonna, and you are my friend and benefactor. I will be your protection
and defence. I will never let her go away with that infamous, gambling
and murdering scoundrel. My gigantic combinations have matured. I bless
your union."
He lifted his little arms in benediction. The situation was cruelly
comical. For a moment I hated the mournful-visaged, posturing monkey,
and had a wild desire to throw him out of the window and have done with
him. I rose and, towering over him, was about to lecture him severely on
his impertinent interference, when the sight of his scared face made
me turn away with a laugh.
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