But you were not there--who told
you?
'You want to know more than is good for you, my dear boy.'
'Do tell me!'
'Bend your mind rather to making the most skilful use of this
anniversary and give me news as soon as you have any.'
'When shall I see you again?'
'Whenever you like.'
'Then dine with me to-night at the Club--about eight o'clock. That will
give us an opportunity of seeing after the other affair too.'
'All right. Good-bye, Goldbeard. Run!'
They parted in the Piazza di Spagna, at the foot of the steps, and as
Elena came across the square in the direction of the Via due Macelli to
go up to the Quattro Fontane, Secinaro joined her and walked on with
her.
The strain of dissimulation once over, Andrea's heart sank within him
like a leaden weight. He did not know how he was to drag himself up the
steps. He was quite assured that, after this, Secinaro would tell him
everything, and somehow this seemed to him a point to his advantage. By
a sort of intoxication, a species of madness, resulting from the
severity of his sufferings, he rushed blindly into new and ever more
cruel and senseless torments; aggravating and complicating his miserable
state in a thousand ways; passing from perversion to perversion, from
aberration to aberration, without being able to hold back or to stop for
one moment in his giddy descent.
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