His mind was exaggerating, as minds do when the heart is intensely
moved, yet it discerned much truth. And it was very strange, but his
now acute consciousness of a personal hatred coming to him from out of
the darkness of this almost secret chamber, and of its complex causes,
causes which nevertheless would surely never have produced the effect
he felt but for the startling crisis of that day, this acute
consciousness of a personal and fierce hatred bred suddenly in Artois
a new sensation of something that was not hatred, that was the reverse
of hatred. Vere had once compared him to a sleepy lion. The lion was
now awake.
"Hermione," he said--and now his voice was strong and unfaltering--"I
seem to have been listening to you all this time that I have been
standing here. Surely I have been listening to you, hearing your
thoughts. Don't you know it? Haven't you felt it? When I left the
island, when I followed you, I thought I understood. I thought I
understood what you were feeling, almost all that you were feeling.
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