What do you mean? What kind of man are you to take
advantage of my bereavement?"
After a moment's consideration Longorio began haltingly: "I don't
know what kind of man I am, for you have changed me so. There was
a time--I--I have done things--I have scorned all restraint, all
laws except those of my desires, and so, perhaps, I am a vandal.
Make sure of this, however--I shall not injure you. Christ is no
more sacred to me than you, my heart's treasure. You accuse me of
indelicacy because I lack the strength to smother my admiration. I
adore you; my being dissolves, my veins are afire with longing for
you; I am mad with the knowledge that you are mine. Mad? Caramba!
I am insane; my mind totters; I grope my way like a man blinded by
a dazzling light; I suffer agonies. But see! I refuse to touch
you. I am a giant in my restraint. The strength of heroes is mine,
and I strangle my impulses as they are born, although the effort
kills me. Senora, I await the moment of your voluntary surrender.
I wait for you." He extended his arms, and Alaire saw that his
olive features were distorted with emotion; that his hands, his
whole thin, high-strung body were shaking uncontrollably.
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