Page 398 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

unable to fly. His chest heaved convulsively, great drops of
sweat beaded his white face, and from his eyes tears seemed
about to break. For an instant his features worked convul-
sively, as if he would fain invoke upon the girl, weeping on
her father’s shoulder, some hideous curse. But no words
came—only thrusting his hand into his breast, with a su-
preme gesture of horror and aversion, he flung something
from him. Then a profound sigh escaped him, and he held
out his hands to be bound.
There was something so pitiable about this silent grief
that, as they led him away, the little group instinctively
averted their faces, lest they should seem to triumph over
him.