Читать книгу A Son of Ishmael. A Novel онлайн

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“I see another picture,” he said again suddenly. “I see the morning when Anthony went to Paris—to gay Paris, where he lost his life. He enters the room. How light is his laugh and how his eyes sparkle! He has said ‘farewell,’ he has gone. Wait a while—another picture is rising in that dark part of the room. Hold me, Nancy, my child, or I shall fall. I must look at it, but it horrifies me, it chills my blood. Do you see the man who has come into the room? His name is Eustace Moore.”

“Oh! don’t let us recall that dreadful scene, father,” interrupted Nancy.

“I must, child. Don’t interrupt me, let me go on describing the picture. Eustace Moore has come into the room. He is Anthony’s friend. He tells his awful tale. Cannot you hear what he says?”

“No, dear father, I hear nothing. You are torturing yourself with all these dreadful memories; they are exciting you too much; it is dreadfully bad for you to talk as you do.”

“Nothing is bad for me now. I am past the good or the bad of life. I stand on its threshold. Let me describe the picture. I hear Eustace Moore speaking. These are his words: