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nydus/The Last ManPublic

Love and war in future Europe are thrown into confusion by a global pandemic that obliterates humanity.

Page 174 of 578
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more,” she cried, “once more on your friendly breast, my beloved brother, can the lost Perdita pour forth her sorrows. I had imposed a law of silence on myself; and for months I have kept it. I do wrong in weeping now, and greater wrong in giving words to my grief. I will not speak! Be it enough for you to know that I am miserable⁠—be it enough for you to know, that the painted veil of life is rent, that I sit forever shrouded in darkness and gloom, that grief is my sister, everlasting lamentation my mate!”

I endeavoured to console her; I did not question her! but I caressed her, assured her of my deepest affection and my intense interest in the changes of her fortune:⁠—“Dear words,” she cried, “expressions of love come upon my ear, like the remembered sounds of forgotten music, that had been dear to me. They are vain, I know; how very vain in their attempt to soothe or comfort me. Dearest Lionel, you cannot guess what I have suffered during these long months. I have read of mourners in ancient days, who clothed themselves in sackcloth, scattered dust upon their heads, ate their bread mingled with ashes, and took up their abode on the bleak mountain tops, reproaching heaven and earth aloud with their misfortunes. Why this is the very luxury of sorrow! thus one might go on from day to day contriving new extravagances, revelling in the paraphernalia of woe, wedded to all the appurtenances of despair. Alas! I must forever conceal the wretchedness that consumes me. I must weave a veil of dazzling falsehood to hide my grief from vulgar eyes, smoothe my brow, and paint my lips in deceitful smiles⁠—even in solitude I dare not think how lost I am, lest I become insane and rave.”

The tears and agitation of my poor sister had rendered her unfit to return to the circle we had left⁠—so I persuaded her to let me drive her through the park; and, during the ride, I induced her to confide the tale of her unhappiness to me, fancying that talking of it would lighten the burden, and certain that, if there were a remedy, it should be found and secured to her.

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