Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. ” With a swift movement she gained the bell and rang it. ” She commanded him in a low tone. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. But really it is much more than that. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise.
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