Луна и грош

Chapter XLII

           

           Thoughthesepicturesconfusedandpuzzledme,Icouldnotbeunmovedbytheemotionthatwaspatentinthem;and,Iknewnotwhy,IfeltinmyselfafeelingthatwithregardtoStricklandwasthelastIhadeverexpectedtoexperience.Ifeltanoverwhelmingcompassion.

           "IthinkIknownowwhyyousurrenderedtoyourfeelingforBlancheStroeve,"Isaidtohim.

           "Why?"

           "Ithinkyourcouragefailed.Theweaknessofyourbodycommunicateditselftoyoursoul.Idonotknowwhatinfiniteyearningpossessesyou,sothatyouaredriventoaperilous,lonelysearchforsomegoalwhereyouexpecttofindafinalreleasefromthespiritthattormentsyou.Iseeyouastheeternalpilgrimtosomeshrinethatperhapsdoesnotexist.IdonotknowtowhatinscrutableNirvanayouaim.Doyouknowyourself?PerhapsitisTruthandFreedomthatyouseek,andforamomentyouthoughtthatyoumightfindreleaseinLove.Ithinkyourtiredsoulsoughtrestinawoman’sarms,andwhenyoufoundnorestthereyouhatedher.Youhadnopityforher,becauseyouhavenopityforyourself.Andyoukilledheroutoffear,becauseyoutrembledstillatthedangeryouhadbarelyescaped."

           Hesmileddrylyandpulledhisbeard.

           "Youareadreadfulsentimentalist,mypoorfriend."

           AweeklaterIheardbychancethatStricklandhadgonetoMarseilles.Ineversawhimagain.

           

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