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English
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Crudely to smash features so like hers seemed a sort of mimic murder. So he still hesitated. Was there no other way? Then the thought came to him: "Bury her." It pleased him. Yes, he would bury her. CRUDELY TO SMASH FEATURES SO LIKE HERS SEEMED A SORT OF MIMIC MURDER SO HE STILL HESITATED WAS THERE NO OTHER WAY THEN THE THOUGHT CAME TO HIM BURY HER IT PLEASED HIM YES HE WOULD BURY HER
for all his unshaken purpose, it was strange to see again the face that had meant so much to him, around which his thoughts had circled consciously or unconsciously all these absent weeks. Seldom has a face seen again after long separation seemed so disenchanted as Silencieux's. Was this she whom he had worshipped, she who had told him in that strange voice of her immortal lovers, she with whom he had sung by the sea, she with whom he had danced those strange dances in the town, she who had whispered low that awful command, she to whom he had sacrificed his little child? She was just a dusty, neglected cast—nothing more. Wonder's voice came back to him: "No, Daddy, they tasted of dust"—and at that thought he gripped the hammer ready to strike. And yet, even thus, she was a beautiful work of man's hands, and Antony, hating to destroy beauty, still forbore to strike—just as he would have shrunk from breaking in pieces a shapely vase. Then, too, the resemblance to Beatrice took him again.  TO THOSE HE HAD LOVED STILL FOR ALL HIS UNSHAKEN PURPOSE IT WAS STRANGE TO SEE AGAIN THE FACE THAT HAD MEANT SO MUCH TO HIM AROUND WHICH HIS THOUGHTS HAD CIRCLED CONSCIOUSLY OR UNCONSCIOUSLY ALL THESE ABSENT WEEKS SELDOM HAS A FACE SEEN AGAIN AFTER LONG SEPARATION SEEMED SO DISENCHANTED AS SELAJIO'S WAS THIS SHE WHOM HE HAD WORSHIPPED SHE WHO HAD TOLD HIM IN THAT STRANGE VOICE OF HER IMMORTAL LOVERS SHE WITH WHOM HE HAD SUNG BY THE SEA SHE WITH WHOM HE HAD DANCED THOSE STRANGE DANCES IN THE TOWN SHE WHO HAD WHISPERED LOW THAT AWFUL COMMAND SHE TO WHOM HE HAD SACRIFICED HIS LITTLE CHILD SHE WAS JUST A DUSTY NEGLECTED CAST NOTHING MORE WONDER'S VOICE CAME BACK TO HIM NO DADDY THEY TASTED OF DUST AND AT THAT THOUGHT HE GRIPPED THE HAMMER READY TO STRIKE AND YET EVEN THUS SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL WORK OF MAN'S HANDS AND ANTONY HATING TO DESTROY BEAUTY STILL FOREBORE TO STRIKE JUST AS HE WOULD HAVE SHRUNK FROM BREAKING IN PIECES A SHAPELY VASE THEN TOO THE RESEMBLANCE TO BEATRICE TOOK HIM AGAIN
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