Some three hundred paces from the edge of the ice, the smoke and steam
of the crater rose into the air, and between the two was lava so hot
that in places it was difficult to walk upon it. Across this bed, that
trembled as I passed over it, went de Garcia somewhat slowly, for now he
was weary, and I followed him at my ease, getting my breath again.
Presently I saw that he had come to the edge of the crater, for he
leaned forward and looked over, and I thought that he was about to
destroy himself by plunging into it. But if such thoughts had been in
his mind, he forgot them when he had seen what sort of nest this was
to sleep in, for turning, he came back towards me, sword up, and we met
within a dozen paces of the edge. I say met, but in truth we did not
meet, for he stopped again, well out of reach of my sword. I sat down
upon a block of lava and looked at him; it seemed to me that I could not
feast my eyes enough upon his face. And what a face it was; that of a
more than murderer about to meet his reward! Would that I could paint to
show it, for no words can tell the fearfulness of those red and sunken
eyes, those grinning teeth and quivering lips. I think that when the
enemy of mankind has cast his last die and won his last soul, he too
will look thus as he passes into doom.
'At length, de Garcia!' I said.
'Why do you not kill me and make an end?' he asked hoarsely.
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