Purification Page #3

"Purification" by Robert Barr is a thought-provoking novel that delves into themes of morality, redemption, and the quest for self-identity. The story follows the journey of its protagonist as they navigate a world laden with moral ambiguity and personal demons, seeking a path toward purification and understanding. Barr's narrative intertwines rich character development with philosophical questions, inviting readers to reflect on the nature of sin, forgiveness, and the transformative power of introspection. Through compelling storytelling and vivid imagery, the novel explores the complexities of the human experience and the eternal search for meaning.

• Short story

								


"You will find these cigarettes excellent. My husband's taste in
cigarettes is better than in many things. He prefers the Russian to the
French."

Caspilier laughed loudly.

"That's a slap at you, Tenise," he said.

"At me? Not so; she speaks of cigarettes, and I myself prefer the
Russian, only they are so expensive."

A look of strange eagerness came into Valdorême's expressive face,
softened by a touch of supplication. Her eyes were on her husband, but
she said rapidly to the girl----"

"Stop a moment, mademoiselle. Do not light your cigarette until I give
the word."

Then to her husband she spoke beseechingly in Russian, a language she
had taught him in the early months of their marriage.

"Eugenio, Eugenio! Don't you see the girl's a fool? How can you care
for her? She would be as happy with the first man she met in the
street. I--I think only of you. Come back to me, Eugenio."

She leaned over the table towards him, and in her vehemence clasped his
wrist. The girl watched them both with a smile. It reminded her of a
scene in an opera she had heard once in a strange language. The prima
donna had looked and pleaded like Valdorême.

Caspilier shrugged his shoulders, but did not withdraw his wrist from
her firm grasp.

"Why go over the whole weary ground again?" he said. "If it were not
Tenise, it would be somebody else. I was never meant for a constant
husband, Val. I understood from Lacour that we were to have no more of
this nonsense."

She slowly relaxed her hold on his unresisting wrist. The old, hard,
tragic look came into her face as she drew a deep breath. The fire in
the depths of her amber eyes rekindled, as the softness went out of
them.

"You may light your cigarette now, mademoiselle," she said almost in a
whisper to Tenise.

"I swear I could light mine in your eyes, Val.," cried her husband.
"You would make a name for yourself on the stage. I will write a
tragedy for you, and we will----"

Tenise struck the match. A simultaneous flash of lightning and clap of
thunder filled the room. The glass in the window fell clattering into
the street. Valdorême was standing with her back against the door.
Tenise, fluttering her helpless little hands before her, tottered
shrieking to the broken window. Caspilier, staggering panting to his
feet, gasped--

"You Russian devil! The key, the key!"

He tried to clutch her throat, but she pushed him back.

"Go to your Frenchwoman. She's calling for help."

Tenise sank by the window, one burning arm over the sill, and was
silent. Caspilier, mechanically beating back the fire from his shaking
head, whimpering and sobbing, fell against the table, and then went
headlong on the floor.

Valdorême, a pillar, of fire, swaying gently to and fro before the
door, whispered in a voice of agony--

"Oh, Eugene, Eugene!" and flung herself like a flaming angel--or fiend
--on the prostrate form of the man.
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