The Continental Monthly, Vol. 6, No 4, August, 1864: Devoted To Literature And National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 6, No 4, August, 1864: Devoted To Literature And National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'If she is false, what need to have told me of it? Was it that the
knowledge of it would make me more happy? And did I give it into the
hands of my own slaves to watch over my honor? Is it a part of your duty
that for weeks you should have played the spy upon herself and me, so as
to bring her secret faults to light?'
She stood silent before him, not less amazed at his lingering fondness
for his wife than at his reproaches against herself.
'How know I that she is guilty at all?' he said, continuing the train of
thought into which his doubts and his better nature had led him. 'I must
feel all this for certain. How do I know but what you have brought it
about by some cunning intrigue for your own purposes? Speak!'
For Leta to stop now was destruction. Though to go on might bring no
profit to her, yet her safety depended upon closing forever the path of
reconciliation toward which his mind seemed to stray. And step by step,
shrouding as far as possible her own agency, she spread out before him
that basis of fact upon which she so well knew how to erect a false
superstructure. She told him how the intimacy of AEnone and Cleotos had
led her to keep watch--how AEnone had once confessed having had a lover
in the days of her obscurity and poverty--how that this Greek was that
same lover--and how improbable it was that he could have been domiciled
in that house by chance, or for any other purpose than that of being in
a situation to renew former intimacies. She told how, after long
suspicion, she had settled this identity of the former lover with the
slave--and how she had seen them, in the twilight of that very day,
standing near the window and addressing each other endearingly by their
own familiar names. As Sergius listened, the evident truthfulness of the
facts gradually impressed themselves upon him; and no longer doubting
his disgrace, he closed his heart against all further hope and charity
and affection. The pleasant past no longer whispered its memories to his
heart--those were now stifled and dead.
'And what reward for all this do you demand?' he hissed forth, seizing
Leta by the arm, 'For of course you have not thus dogged her steps day
after day, without expectation of recompense from me.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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