ges, that what the human being gives, in the long run
the human being generally gets, and that she who persistently gives gold
will surely at last receive it.

The thought of a lost Hermione struck to his heart a greater fear than
had already that night the thought of a dead Hermione. And if she was
changed she was lost.

The real, the beautiful Hermione--he must seize her, grip her, hold her
fast before it was too late.

"Hermione," he said, "I think you saved me from death; I am sure you
did. Did you save me only to hate me?"

She made no reply.

"Do you remember that evening when you came into my room at Kairouan all
covered with dust from your journey across the plains? I do. I remember
it as if it had happened an hour ago instead of nearly seventeen years.
I remember the strange feeling I had when I turned my head and saw you,
a feeling that you and Africa would fight for me and that you would
conquer. It had seemed to me that Africa meant to have me and would have
me. Unless you came I felt certain of that. And I had thought about it
all as I lay there in the stifling heat, till I almost felt the feverish
earth enclosing me. I had loved Africa, but Africa seemed to me terrible
then. I thought of only Arabs, always Arabs, walking above me on the
surface of the ground when I was buried. And the thought made me shudder
with horror. As if it could have mattered! I was absurd! But one is
often absurd when one is very ill. The child in one comes out then, I
suppose. And I had wondered--how I had wondered!--whether there was any
chance of your coming. I hadn't actually asked you to come. I hadn't
dared to do that. But it was the same thing almost. I had let you
know--I had let you know. And I saw you come into my room all covered
with dust. You had come so quickly--at once. Perhaps--perhaps sometimes
you have thought I had forgotten that evening. I may be an egoist. I
expect most men are egoists. And perhaps I am the egoist you say I am.
Often one doesn't know what one is. But I have never forgotten that day,
and that you were covered with dust. It was that--the dust--which seemed
to make me realize that you had not lost a moment as to whether you
would come or not. You looked as if--almost as if you had run all the
way to be in time to save my life--my wretched life. And you saved it.
Did you save me to hate me?"

He waited for her to speak. But still she was silent. He heard no sound
of her at all, and for a mom