We
laid him on the chest, and I fetched a pillow for his head and stripped
off my coat and spread it over him. I took out my pocket-flask, too, and
forced a few drops between his teeth. In short I tried to play the game.
When his eyes opened, however, my endurance had reached its limits.
With a muttered excuse,--not that I flattered myself they wanted me to
stay!--I left them and stumbled into the room of the squires, taking
refuge in the grateful dark. I don't know how long I sat there, elbows
on knees, hands propping my head; but it was a ghastly vigil. In this
round, unlike the battle in the hall, I had not been victor. Instead, I
had taken the count.
I knew now, of course, that I was in love with Esme Falconer. Judging
from the violence of the sensation, I must have loved her for quite a
while. Probably it had begun that night in the St. Ives restaurant; for
when before had I watched any girl with such special, ecstatic, almost
proprietary rapture? Yes, that was why, ever since, I had been cutting
such crazy capers. From first to last they were the natural thing, the
prerogative of a man in my state of mind or heart.
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