“You cold, pitiless, English scoundrel,” he shrieked suddenly. The
breaking down of his restraint had let him go right into madness. “You
have murdered her. You cared nothing; you came from nowhere. A beggarly
fool, too stupid to be even an adventurer. A miserable blunderer, coming
in blind; coming out blind; and leaving ruin and worse than hell. What
good have you done yourself? What could you? What did you see? What did
you hope?... Sorrow? Ruin? Death? I am acquainted with them. It is in
the blood; ’tis in the tone; in the entrails of us, in our mother’s
milk. Your accursed land has brought always that on our own dear and
sorrowful country.... You waste, you ruin, you spoil. What for?... Tell
me what for? Tell me? Tell me? What did you gain? What will you ever
gain? An unending curse!... But, ah, ye’ve no souls.”
He called very loudly, as if with a passionate relief, his voice giving
life to an unsuspected, misgiving echo:
“Guards! Soldiers!... You shall be shot, now!”
He was going to cut the knot that way. Two soldiers pushed the door
noisily open, their muskets advanced. He took no notice of them; and
they retained an attitude of military stupidity, their eyes upon him. He
whispered:
“No, no! Not yet!”
Then he looked at me searchingly, as if he still hoped to get some
certainty from my face, some inkling, perhaps some inspiration of what
would persuade me to speak. Then he shook his wrists violently, as if in
fear of himself.
“Take him away,” he said. “Away! Out of reach of my hands. Out of reach
of my hands.”
I was trembling a good deal; when the soldiers entered I thought I had
got to my last minute. But, as it was, he had not learnt a thing
from me. Not a thing. And I did not see where else he could go for
information.