My
life has been one long series of perjuries, murders, robberies,
debaucheries and ruthless cruelties. I have been deaf to all
considerations of decency, pity and mercy; as unmoved by such feelings as
will be the savage beasts which spared you but will rend me to shreds. I
am at the end of my crimes; let me hide them. My doom is at hand. Why
should I defile your ears with the tale of my atrocities? Let them remain
untold."
"You slander yourself," I demurred. "You cannot make me believe that a man
capable of condoning my balking of your great coup on the Flaminian
Highway, capable of guiding me to this bed of straw and of offering me a
share of his bit of stale bread can be all bad. There must be much in your
past life less dark than you indicate."
He ruminated.
"Frankly," he said, "I cannot recall anything I ever did at which a man
like you would not shudder. I have been a good sport, that is why I could
not but chuckle, after my first wrath cooled, at your spoiling my great
coup, as you call it. But, all my life, I have gloried in my treacheries
and cruelties. I have hated all mankind and been merciless to foes, if
they came into my power, and have pretended friendliness I did not feel so
as to make use of those who thought me friendly.
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