The thought of a lost Hermione struck to his heart a greater fear than
had already that night the thought of a dead Hermione. And if she was
changed she was lost.
The real, the beautiful Hermione--he must seize her, grip her, hold
her fast before it was too late.
"Hermione," he said, "I think you saved me from death; I am sure you
did. Did you save me only to hate me?"
She made no reply.
"Do you remember that evening when you came into my room at Kairouan
all covered with dust from your journey across the plains? I do. I
remember it as if it had happened an hour ago instead of nearly
seventeen years. I remember the strange feeling I had when I turned my
head and saw you, a feeling that you and Africa would fight for me and
that you would conquer. It had seemed to me that Africa meant to have
me and would have me. Unless you came I felt certain of that. And I
had thought about it all as I lay there in the stifling heat, till I
almost felt the feverish earth enclosing me.
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