CHAPTER II
Notwithstanding my misanthropy I had to see a few people on account
of all these Royalist affairs which I couldn't very well drop, and
in truth did not wish to drop. They were my excuse for remaining
in Europe, which somehow I had not the strength of mind to leave
for the West Indies, or elsewhere. On the other hand, my
adventurous pursuit kept me in contact with the sea where I found
occupation, protection, consolation, the mental relief of grappling
with concrete problems, the sanity one acquires from close contact
with simple mankind, a little self-confidence born from the
dealings with the elemental powers of nature. I couldn't give all
that up. And besides all this was related to Dona Rita. I had, as
it were, received it all from her own hand, from that hand the
clasp of which was as frank as a man's and yet conveyed a unique
sensation. The very memory of it would go through me like a wave
of heat. It was over that hand that we first got into the habit of
quarrelling, with the irritability of sufferers from some obscure
pain and yet half unconscious of their disease. Rita's own spirit
hovered over the troubled waters of Legitimity. But as to the
sound of the four magic letters of her name I was not very likely
to hear it fall sweetly on my ear. For instance, the distinguished
personality in the world of finance with whom I had to confer
several times, alluded to the irresistible seduction of the power
which reigned over my heart and my mind; which had a mysterious and
unforgettable face, the brilliance of sunshine together with the
unfathomable splendour of the night as--Madame de Lastaola. That's
how that steel-grey man called the greatest mystery of the
universe. When uttering that assumed name he would make for
himself a guardedly solemn and reserved face as though he were
afraid lest I should presume to smile, lest he himself should
venture to smile, and the sacred formality of our relations should
be outraged beyond mending.
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