She drew a chair to the window and stared at the splendour of the tropical night. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. "Will you plead?" demanded Wild, harshly. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. The soldiers surrounded the cart, drew their swords, and by striking the rioters first with the blunt edge of their blades, and afterwards with the sharp points, succeeded in driving them back. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly.
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