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Chapter 7

           “IwishIcouldseetheislands.”

           InhisunskilfulnessDonMartinover-exertedhimself.Nowandthenasortofmuscularfaintnesswouldrunfromthetipsofhisachingfingersthrougheveryfibreofhisbody,andpassoffinaflushofheat.Hehadfought,talked,sufferedmentallyandphysically,exertinghismindandbodyforthelastforty-eighthourswithoutintermission.Hehadhadnorest,verylittlefood,nopauseinthestressofhisthoughtsandhisfeelings.EvenhisloveforAntonia,whencehedrewhisstrengthandhisinspiration,hadreachedthepointoftragictensionduringtheirhurriedinterviewbyDonJose’sbedside.Andnow,suddenly,hewasthrownoutofallthisintoadarkgulf,whoseverygloom,silence,andbreathlesspeaceaddedatormenttothenecessityforphysicalexertion.Heimaginedthelightersinkingtothebottomwithanextraordinaryshudderofdelight.“Iamonthevergeofdelirium,”hethought.Hemasteredthetremblingofallhislimbs,ofhisbreast,theinwardtremblingofallhisbodyexhaustedofitsnervousforce.

           “Shallwerest,Capataz?”heproposedinacarelesstone.“Therearemanyhoursofnightyetbeforeus.”

           “True.Itisbutamileorso,Isuppose.Restyourarms,senor,ifthatiswhatyoumean.Youwillfindnoothersortofrest,Icanpromiseyou,sinceyouletyourselfbeboundtothistreasurewhoselosswouldmakenopoormanpoorer.

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