“The cave? Pouf!” and he raised both his hands with a movement indicative of an explosion. “Acting under orders from Rome, a party of engineers blew it up with dynamite. As regards the thieves, no one knows what became of them. It must be admitted, however, that they had one redeeming characteristic—that of loyalty to their exemplary sovereign!”
And Major Malaspina laughed, sipped his vermouth, and lapsed into the full enjoyment of his long cigar.
Chapter Fourteen.
A Child of the Sun.
Sadness and joy, despair and ecstasy, were never so linked as they are in my soul to-night.
Many men have gone mad upon far less provocation, and yet I am calm—so calm with this whirligig of emotions that I surprise myself.
Ah! it will not be long ere it is all over. Death will bring oblivion, the game will stop; and though joy, ecstasy, and delight all flee, sadness, misery, and despair will be banished with them. Remorse will cease to gnaw—that everlasting longing for what can never be will end its torture, and I shall be at peace.
But if there should not be rest beyond the grave? Bah! I’m upset, and I imagined I was calm. There is a superlative in suffering as in everything, else, and I have reached it. Death at its worst can have no further horrors.