She turned back into the hall. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. “I have stood it for a month, Anna,” he exclaimed. ’ Madame ventured a glance up at his face, and fluttered her lashes.
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