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No. It is Life: Life that, out of the accents of that voice, supremely melodious, drowsy, sleepy, yet replete with fire from an unfathomable abyss, out of the lazy, lascivious snaky curves of those limbs of hers; out of those glossy shoulders, so shapely, so slenderly fashioned, and of those outstretched naked arms, in hue like pale dead gold, has come forth towards you in all its hostile might!

Gina, lost in dreary amazement, was staring at me.

"What ails you? &hellip; Had we not better get away from here?"

We were both of us presently standing, frantic with pain, in the street which, lit up by the flaring windows of the great hall, was as bright as day.

"Let us go away—away!—Home? On no account.—Get drunk somewhere—lose my senses—shed some one's blood. &hellip;"

I was raving like one in a delirium.

"I beg you, Gina, come, come along—I can't bear any more!" I stammered.

She hesitated. "Unescorted and alone—to a night-restaurant?"

"What does it matter?"