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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Veranilda"


Hereupon Basil addressed him.
'Whether you stay or go, foul mouth, is naught to me. I am myself in
haste to be gone, but I will not leave you without a lesson by
which, perchance, you may profit.'
As he uttered the last word, he dealt Vivian such a buffet on the
side of the head with his open hand that the youngster staggered.
The result of this, Basil had well foreseen; he stood watchful, and
in an instant, as a dagger gleamed before his eyes, grasped the
descending arm that wielded it. Vivian struggled furiously, but was
overcome by the other's strength. Flung violently to the ground, his
head struck against the edge of a marble seat, and he lay senseless.
Heliodora looked on with the eyes with which she had often followed
a fight between man and beast in the amphitheatre. Pride, and
something more, lit up her countenance as she turned to Basil.
'Brave generous!' she exclaimed, her hands clasped against her
bosom. 'Not even to draw your dagger! Noble Basil!'
'Have him looked to,' was the reply; 'and console him as you choose.
Lady, I bid you farewell.


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