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Chapter 6

           Itwasonlywhen,turningsuddenlytoher,heblurtedouttwice,“I’vecometoyouI’vecomestraighttoyouwithoutbeingabletofinishhisphrase,thatthegreatpitifulnessofthatlonelyandtormenteddeathinCostaguanacametoherwiththefullforceofitsmisery.Hecaughtholdofherhand,raisedittohislips,andatthatshedroppedherparasoltopathimonthecheek,murmured“Poorboy,”andbegantodryhereyesunderthedownwardcurveofherhat-brim,verysmallinhersimple,whitefrock,almostlikealostchildcryinginthedegradedgrandeurofthenoblehall,whilehestoodbyher,againperfectlymotionlessinthecontemplationofthemarbleurn.

           Afterwardstheywentoutforalongwalk,whichwassilenttillheexclaimedsuddenly

           “Yes.Butifhehadonlygrappledwithitinaproperway!”

           Andthentheystopped.Everywheretherewerelongshadowslyingonthehills,ontheroads,ontheenclosedfieldsofolivetrees;theshadowsofpoplars,ofwidechestnuts,offarmbuildings,ofstonewalls;andinmid-airthesoundofabell,thinandalert,waslikethethrobbingpulseofthesunsetglow.Herlipswereslightlypartedasthoughinsurprisethatheshouldnotbelookingatherwithhisusualexpression.Hisusualexpressionwasunconditionallyapprovingandattentive.Hewasinhistalkswithherthemostanxiousanddeferentialofdictators,anattitudethatpleasedherimmensely.Itaffirmedherpowerwithoutdetractingfromhisdignity.

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