he remembrance of Dea struggled in the shadows with weak
cries. There is an antique bas-relief representing the Sphinx devouring
a Cupid. The wings of the sweet celestial are bleeding between the
fierce, grinning fangs.

Did Gwynplaine love this woman? Has man, like the globe, two poles? Are
we, on our inflexible axis, a moving sphere, a star when seen from afar,
mud when seen more closely, in which night alternates with day? Has the
heart two aspects--one on which its love is poured forth in light; the
other in darkness? Here a woman of light, there a woman of the sewer.
Angels are necessary. Is it possible that demons are also essential? Has
the soul the wings of the bat? Does twilight fall fatally for all? Is
sin an integral and inevitable part of our destiny? Must we accept evil
as part and portion of our whole? Do we inherit sin as a debt? What
awful subjects for thought!

Yet a voice tells us that weakness is a crime. Gwynplaine's feelings are
not to be described. The flesh, life, terror, lust, an overwhelming
intoxication of spirit, and all the shame possible to pride. Was he
about to succumb?

She repeated, "I love you!" and flung her frenzied arms around him.
Gwynplaine panted.

Suddenly close at hand there rang, clear and distinct, a little bell. It
was the little bell inside the wall. The duchess, turning her head,
said,--

"What does she want of me?"

Quickly, with the noise of a spring door, the silver panel, with the
golden crown chased on it, opened. A compartment of a shaft, lined with
royal blue velvet, appeared, and on a golden salver a letter. The
letter, broad and weighty, was placed so as to exhibit the seal, which
was a large impression in red wax. The bell continued to tinkle. The
open panel almost touched the couch where the duchess and Gwynplaine
were sitting.

Leaning over, but still keeping her arm round his neck, she took the
letter from the plate, and touched the panel. The compartment closed in,
and the bell ceased ringing.

The duchess broke the seal, and, opening the envelope, drew out two
documents contained therein, and flung it on the floor at Gwynplaine's
feet. The impression of the broken seal was still decipherable, and
Gwynplaine could distinguish a royal crown over the initial A. The torn
envelope lay open before him, so that he could read, "To Her Grace the
Duchess Josiana." The envelope had contained both vellum and parchment.
The former was a small, the latter a larg