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Chapter 5
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Shemadeanalmostimperceptiblenegativemovementofherhead,stillstaringacrossthestreetattheAvellanos’shouse,grey,markedwithdecay,andwithironbarslikeaprison.
“Anditwouldbesoeasyofattainment,”hecontinued,“thisaimwhich,whetherknowinglyornot,Ihavealwayshadinmyheart—eversincethedaywhenyousnubbedmesohorriblyonceinParis,youremember.”
Aslightsmileseemedtomovethecornerofthelipthatwasonhisside.
“Youknowyouwereaveryterribleperson,asortofCharlotteCordayinaschoolgirl’sdress;aferociouspatriot.IsupposeyouwouldhavestuckaknifeintoGuzmanBento?”
Sheinterruptedhim.“Youdometoomuchhonour.”
“Atanyrate,”hesaid,changingsuddenlytoatoneofbitterlevity,“youwouldhavesentmetostabhimwithoutcompunction.”
“Ah,parexemple!”shemurmuredinashockedtone.
“Well,”heargued,mockingly,“youdokeepmeherewritingdeadlynonsense.Deadlytome!Ithasalreadykilledmyself-respect.Andyoumayimagine,”hecontinued,histonepassingintolightbanter,“thatMontero,shouldhebesuccessful,wouldgetevenwithmeintheonlywaysuchabrutecangetevenwithamanofintelligencewhocondescendstocallhimagran’bestiathreetimesaweek.It’sasortofintellectualdeath;butthereistheotheroneinthebackgroundforajournalistofmyability.
