She felt that she heard him listening, that she heard
him demanding the sound. And as she looked at his dark figure, beyond
which she saw the vagueness of night and some stars, she was conscious
of the life in him as she had never been conscious of it before, she
was conscious of all his manhood terribly awake.
That was for Vere.
A quarter of an hour went by. Artois remained always on the balcony,
and scarcely moved. Hermione watched him, and tried to learn a lesson;
tried to realize without bitterness and horror that in the heart of
man everything has been planted, and that therefore nothing which
grows there should cause too great amazement, too great condemnation,
or the absolute withdrawal of pity; tried to face something which must
completely change her life, sweeping away more than mere illusions,
sweeping away a long reverence which had been well founded, and which
she had kept very secret in her heart, replacing its vital substance
with a pale shadow of compassion.
She watched him, and she listened for the sound of wheels, until at
last she could bear it no longer.
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