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this, to think that she is a woman! She would not be such a fool as to
be an angel. She is absolute beauty. Repeat all this to yourself, to
calm your ardour."
These speeches redoubled the love of Gwynplaine and Dea, and Ursus was
astonished at his want of success, just as one who should say, "It is
singular that with all the oil I throw on fire I cannot extinguish it."
Did he, then, desire to extinguish their love, or to cool it even?
Certainly not. He would have been well punished had he succeeded. At the
bottom of his heart this love, which was flame for them and warmth for
him, was his delight.
But it is natural to grate a little against that which charms us; men
call it wisdom.
Ursus had been, in his relations with Gwynplaine and Dea, almost a
father and a mother. Grumbling all the while, he had brought them up;
grumbling all the while, he had nourished them. His adoption of them had
made the hut roll more heavily, and he had been oftener compelled to
harness himself by Homo's side to help to draw it.
We may observe, however, that after the first few years, when Gwynplaine
was nearly grown up, and Ursus had grown quite old, Gwynplaine had taken
his turn, and drawn Ursus.
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