He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. And stony broke. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. “I do not think that he is quite dead. He had reacted by laughing at her, informing her coolly that she was naïve in many things. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction.
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