"You knew what it was. You knew it was a farthing! You knew--you knew!
"And now that the hour has come when I know, too, can't you understand
that I realize not only that that farthing is a farthing, but that all
farthings are farthings? Can't you understand that I hate those who
have given me farthings when my hands were stretched out for gold--my
hands that were giving gold?
"Can't you understand? Can't you? Then I'll make you understand! I'll
make you! I'll make you!"
Again the blackness gathered itself together, took a form, the form of
a wave, towered up as a gigantic wave towers, rolled upon Artois to
overwhelm him. He stood firm and received the shock. For he was
beginning to understand. He was no longer confronting waves of hatred
which were also waves of mystery.
He had thought that Hermione hated him, hated every one just then,
because of what Ruffo had silently told her that day at Mergellina.
But as he stood there in the dark at the door of that black chamber,
hearing the distant murmur of the sea about the palace walls, there
were borne in upon him, as if in words she told him, all the reasons
for present hatred of him which preceded the great reason of that day;
reasons for hatred which sprang, perhaps, which surely must spring,
from other reasons of love.
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