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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"New Arabian Nights"

"Do you think I
have no blood in my veins?"
"Northmour," I cried, "if you will neither help her yourself, nor
let me do so, do you know that I shall have to kill you?"
"That is better!" he cried. "Let her die also, where's the harm?
Step aside from that girl! and stand up to fight"
"You will observe," said I, half rising, "that I have not kissed
her yet."
"I dare you to," he cried.
I do not know what possessed me; it was one of the things I am most
ashamed of in my life, though, as my wife used to say, I knew that
my kisses would be always welcome were she dead or living; down I
fell again upon my knees, parted the hair from her forehead, and,
with the dearest respect, laid my lips for a moment on that cold
brow. It was such a caress as a father might have given; it was
such a one as was not unbecoming from a man soon to die to a woman
already dead.
"And now," said I, "I am at your service, Mr. Northmour."
But I saw, to my surprise, that he had turned his back upon me.
"Do you hear?" I asked.
"Yes," said he, "I do. If you wish to fight, I am ready. If not,
go on and save Clara. All is one to me."
I did not wait to be twice bidden; but, stooping again over Clara,
continued my efforts to revive her. She still lay white and
lifeless; I began to fear that her sweet spirit had indeed fled
beyond recall, and horror and a sense of utter desolation seized
upon my heart.


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