It was terrible to see him
thus doing battle with his invisible foes, and to hear his screams and
curses, as inch by inch they drove him back to the edge of the
crater. Here he stood a while, like one who makes a last stand against
overpowering strength, thrusting and striking furiously. Twice he nearly
fell, as though beneath a mortal wound, but recovering himself, fought
on with Nothingness. Then, with a sharp cry, suddenly he threw his arms
wide, as a man does who is pierced through the heart; his sword dropped
from his hand, and he fell backwards into the pit.
I turned away my eyes, for I wished to see no more; but often I have
wondered Who or What it was that dealt de Garcia his death wound.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
OTOMIE'S FAREWELL
Thus then did I accomplish the vengeance that I had sworn to my father
I would wreak upon de Garcia, or rather, thus did I witness its
accomplishment, for in the end he died, terribly enough, not by my hand
but by those of his own fears. Since then I have sorrowed for this, for,
when the frozen and unnatural calm passed from my mind, I hated him as
bitterly as ever, and grieved that I let him die otherwise than by my
hand, and to this hour such is my mind towards him. Doubtless, many may
think it wicked, since we are taught to forgive our enemies, but here I
leave the forgiveness to God, for how can I pardon one who betrayed my
father to the priests, who murdered my mother and my son, who chained
me in the slave-ship and for many hours tortured me with his own hand?
Rather, year by year, do I hate him more.
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