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    Chapter 13 - Page 2

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    she would pluck it with an
    unfaltering hand and drain it of its acrid sweetness. And why the
    deuce need Roderick have gone marching back to destruction? Rowland's
    meditations, even when they began in rancor, often brought him peace;
    but on this occasion they ushered in a quite peculiar quality of unrest.
    He felt conscious of a sudden collapse in his moral energy; a current
    that had been flowing for two years with liquid strength seemed at last
    to pause and evaporate. Rowland looked away at the stagnant vapors on
    the mountains; their dreariness seemed a symbol of the dreariness which
    his own generosity had bequeathed him. At last he had arrived at the
    uttermost limit of the deference a sane man might pay to other people's
    folly; nay, rather, he had transgressed it; he had been befooled on a
    gigantic scale. He turned to his book and tried to woo back patience,
    but it gave him cold comfort and he tossed it angrily away. He pulled
    his hat over his eyes, and tried to wonder, dispassionately, whether
    atmospheric conditions had not something to do with his ill-humor. He
    remained for some time in this attitude, but was finally aroused from
    it by a singular sense that, although he had heard nothing, some one had
    approached him. He looked up and saw Roderick standing before him on the
    turf. His mood made the spectacle unwelcome, and for a moment he felt
    like uttering an uncivil speech. Roderick stood looking at him with an
    expression of countenance which had of late become rare. There was an
    unfamiliar spark in his eye and a certain imperious alertness in his
    carriage. Confirmed habit, with Rowland, came speedily to the front.
    "What is it now?" he asked himself, and invited Roderick to sit down.
    Roderick had evidently something particular to say, and if he remained
    silent for a time it was not because he was ashamed of it.

    "I would like you to do me a favor," he said at last. "Lend me some
    money."

    "How much do you wish?" Rowland asked.

    "Say a thousand francs."

    Rowland hesitated a moment. "I don't wish to be indiscreet, but may I
    ask what you propose to do with a thousand francs?"

    "To go to Interlaken."

    "And why are you going to Interlaken?"

    Roderick replied without a shadow of wavering, "Because that woman is to
    be there."

    Rowland burst out laughing, but Roderick remained serenely grave. "You

    have forgiven her, then?" said Rowland.

    "Not a bit of it!"

    "I don't understand."

    "Neither do I. I only know that she is incomparably beautiful, and that
    she has waked me up amazingly. Besides, she asked me to come."

    "She
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