But, though I spoke up thus for Good, I was not blind to the
fact that, however natural his behaviour might be, it was obvious
that he was being involved in a very awkward and disgraceful
complication. A foul and wicked murder had been attempted, and
he had let the murderess escape, and thereby, among other things,
allowed her to gain a complete ascendency over himself. In fact,
he was in a fair way to become her tool -- and no more dreadful
fate can befall a man than to become the tool of an unscrupulous
woman, or indeed of any woman. There is but one end to it: when
he is broken, or has served her purpose, he is thrown away --
turned out on the world to hunt for his lost self-respect. Whilst
I was pondering thus, and wondering what was to be done -- for
the whole subject was a thorny one -- I suddenly heard a great
clamour in the courtyard outside, and distinguished the voice
of Umslopogaas and Alphonse, the former cursing furiously, and
the latter yelling in terror.
Hurrying out to see what was the matter, I was met by a ludicrous
sight. The little Frenchman was running up the courtyard at
an extraordinary speed, and after him sped Umslopogaas like a
great greyhound. Just as I came out he caught him, and, lifting
him right off his legs, carried him some paces to a beautiful
but very dense flowering shrub which bore a flower not unlike
the gardenia, but was covered with short thorns.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330