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The Summer of Raphael(3 / 6)

that indeed I had not heard the footsteps of a gaoler just now. Furthermore, the person before me was dressed neatly, showing no signs of being bound. So it was true, he had voluntarily walked in.

Before I could inquire further, Saint-Clemont offered his own explanation. His voice was soft, with a plain tone that revealed no particular emotion:

"I arrived in Paris last night. The moment I was back, I learned of my sister''s death. I went to the Percys'' house to find her, but it seems I was too late. I saw her pulling you inside and overheard your conversation. I waited outside. You never came out. The rain was heavy. I stood beneath the window all night, Quenet."

With his words, it all at once became clear to me. There was always a self-destructive air about this man, and I had always despised and detested such behaviour.

"You came here to seek death?" I had never held much fondness for Saint-Clemont, but his cowardice enraged me.

It was probably the thought that I would soon have to be eternally separated from you, while this lucky soul, who still held the power of life in his hands, casually discarded the very thing I held so dear, that in an instant, anger flared up within me, and I strode forward.

"This is pointless." I clenched his collar tightly, my voice surely filled with fury, as I struggled to suppress the urge to give him a punch.

He lowered his gaze, seemingly impervious.

I still urgently sought to stop Saint-Clemont, for I had never yearned so deeply for someone to live on, never felt that his death would only amplify my anguish.

I wanted to earnestly soothe him, to plead with him, almost desperate enough to grab hold of his hands, but all that escaped my lips were deliberate provocation: "Coward! You are just so timid, you don''t even dare to do it yourself!"

He remained expressionless, silent. So I let out an exasperated sneer. "Fine. Do as you please."

I let go of the hopeless man''s collar and returned to my seat, turning my back to him.

I heard the sound of Saint-Clemont''s footsteps rustling on the straw, slowly and resolutely approaching from behind me.

"I didn''t come for you," he murmured, his voice deep and powerful, "I came for her,

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