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"
Alive!" cried Ursus.
Dea repeated "Gwynplaine;" and with her head bowed against Gwynplaine's
cheek, she whispered faintly,--
"You have come down to me again. I thank you, Gwynplaine."
And seated on his knee, she lifted up her head. Wrapt in his embrace,
she turned her sweet face towards him, and fixed on him those eyes so
full of light and shadow, as though she could see him.
"It is you," she said.
Gwynplaine covered her sobs with kisses. There are words which are at
once words, cries, and sobs, in which all ecstasy and all grief are
mingled and burst forth together. They have no meaning, and yet tell
all.
"Yes, it is! It is I, Gwynplaine, of whom you are the soul. Do you hear
me? I, of whom you are the child, the wife, the star, the breath of
life; I, to whom you are eternity. It is I. I am here. I hold you in my
arms. I am alive. I am yours. Oh, when I think that in a moment all
would have been over--one minute more, but for Homo! I will tell you
everything. How near is despair to joy! Dea, we live! Dea, forgive me.
Yes--yours for ever. You are right. Touch my forehead. Make sure that it
is I. If you only knew--but nothing can separate us now. I rise out of
hell, and ascend into heaven. Am I not with you? You said that I
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