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 was on me and I pursued, "What are the motives of your speeches? What prompts your actions?  On your own showing your life seems to be a continuous running away.  You have just run away from Paris.  Where will you run to-morrow?  What are you everlastingly running from-- or is it that you are running after something?  What is it?  A man, a phantom--or some sensation that you don't like to own to?"

Truth to say, I was abashed by the silence which was her only answer to this sally. I said to myself that I would not let my natural anger, my just fury be disarmed by any assumption of pathos or dignity. I suppose I was really out of my mind and what in the middle ages would have been called "possessed" by an evil spirit. I went on enjoying my own villainy.

"Why aren't you in Tolosa? You ought to be in Tolosa.  Isn't Tolosa the proper field for your abilities, for your sympathies, for your profusions, for your generosities--the king without a crown, the man without a fortune!  But here there is nothing worthy of your talents.  No, there is no longer anything worth any sort of trouble here.  There isn't even that ridiculous Monsieur George.  I understand that the talk of the coast from here to Cette is that Monsieur George is drowned.  Upon my word I believe he is.  And serve him right, too.  There's Therese, but I don't suppose that your love for your sister . . ."

"For goodness' sake don't let her come in and find you here."

Those words recalled me to myself, exorcised the evil spirit by the mere enchanting power of the voice. They were also impressive by their suggestion of something