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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"The Strolling Saint; being the confessions of the high and mighty Agostino D'Anguissola, tyrant of Mondolfo and Lord of Carmina in the state of Piacenza"

The snows above were melting at the time, and the pool was little
more than liquid ice. The chill of it struck through me to the very
marrow, and I felt my flesh creep and contract until it seemed like the
rough hide of some fabled monster, and my wounds stung as if fire were
being poured into them.
Thus awhile; then all feeling passed, and a complete insensibility to the
cold of the water or the fire of the wounds succeeded. All was numbed, and
every nerve asleep. At last I had conquered. I laughed aloud, and in a
great voice of triumph I shouted so that the shout went echoing round the
hills in the stillness of the night:
"Satan, thou art defeated!"
And upon that I crawled up the mossy bank, the water gliding from my long
limbs. I attempted to stand. But the earth rocked under my feet; the
blueness of the night deepened into black, and consciousness was
extinguished like a candle that is blown out.
. . . . . . . .
She appeared above me in a great effulgence that emanated from herself as
if she were grown luminous. Her robe was of cloth of silver and of a
dazzling sheen, and it hung closely to her lissom, virginal form, defining
every line and curve of it; and by the chaste beauty of her I was moved to
purest ecstasy of awe and worship.


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