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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

But it is so hard to kill her I love in cold blood. I want
anger as well as despair to keep me to it. Come, turn your head away
from me, and all our troubles shall end."
"No, Camille, let me look at you. Then you will be the last thing I
shall see on earth."
At this he hesitated a moment; then, with a fierce stamp at what he
thought was weakness, he levelled a pistol at her.
She put up her hands with a piteous cry, "Oh! not my face, Camille! pray
do not disfigure my face. Here--kill me here--in my bosom--my heart that
loved you well, when it was no sin to love you."
"I can't shoot you. I can't spill your blood. The river will end all,
and not disfigure your beauty, that has driven me mad, and cost you,
poor wretch, your life."
"Thank you, dear Camille. The water does not frighten me as a pistol
does; it will not hurt me; it will only kill me."
"No, it is but a plunge, and you will be at peace forever; and so shall
I. Come, take my hand, Madame Raynal, Madame Raynal."
She gave him her hand with a look of infinite love. She only said, "My
poor mother!" That word did not fall to the ground.


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