All this speaking generally. In Flora de Barral's
particular case ever since Anthony had suddenly broken his way into her
hopeless and cruel existence she lived like a person liberated from a
condemned cell by a natural cataclysm, a tempest, an earthquake; not
absolutely terrified, because nothing can be worse than the eve of
execution, but stunned, bewildered--abandoning herself passively. She
did not want to make a sound, to move a limb. She hadn't the strength.
What was the good? And deep down, almost unconsciously she was seduced
by the feeling of being supported by this violence. A sensation she had
never experienced before in her life.
She felt as if this whirlwind were calming down somehow! As if this
feeling of support, which was tempting her to close her eyes deliciously
and let herself be carried on and on into the unknown undefiled by vile
experiences, were less certain, had wavered threateningly. She tried to
read something in his face, in that energetic kindly face to which she
had become accustomed so soon. But she was not yet capable of
understanding its expression.
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