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"
Do
you
know
how
men
can
be
so
obsessed
by
love
that
they
are
deaf
and
blind
to
everything
else
in
the
world
?
They
are
as
little
their
own
masters
as
the
slaves
chained
to
the
benches
of
a
galley
.
The
passion
that
held
Strickland
in
bondage
was
no
less
tyrannical
than
love
.
"
"
How
strange
that
you
should
say
that
!
"
I
answered
.
"
For
long
ago
I
had
the
idea
that
he
was
possessed
of
a
devil
.
"
"
And
the
passion
that
held
Strickland
was
a
passion
to
create
beauty
.
It
gave
him
no
peace
.
It
urged
him
hither
and
thither
.
He
was
eternally
a
pilgrim
,
haunted
by
a
divine
nostalgia
,
and
the
demon
within
him
was
ruthless
.
There
are
men
whose
desire
for
truth
is
so
great
that
to
attain
it
they
will
shatter
the
very
foundation
of
their
world
.
Of
such
was
Strickland
,
only
beauty
with
him
took
the
place
of
truth
.
I
could
only
feel
for
him
a
profound
compassion
.
"
Отключить рекламу
"
That
is
strange
also
.
A
man
whom
he
had
deeply
wronged
told
me
that
he
felt
a
great
pity
for
him
.
"
I
was
silent
for
a
moment
.
"
I
wonder
if
there
you
have
found
the
explanation
of
a
character
which
has
always
seemed
to
me
inexplicable
.
How
did
you
hit
on
it
?
"
He
turned
to
me
with
a
smile
.
"
Did
I
not
tell
you
that
I
,
too
,
in
my
way
was
an
artist
?
I
realised
in
myself
the
same
desire
as
animated
him
.
But
whereas
his
medium
was
paint
,
mine
has
been
life
.
"
Then
Captain
Brunot
told
me
a
story
which
I
must
repeat
,
since
,
if
only
by
way
of
contrast
,
it
adds
something
to
my
impression
of
Strickland
.
It
has
also
to
my
mind
a
beauty
of
its
own
.
Отключить рекламу
Captain
Brunot
was
a
Breton
,
and
had
been
in
the
French
Navy
.
He
left
it
on
his
marriage
,
and
settled
down
on
a
small
property
he
had
near
Quimper
to
live
for
the
rest
of
his
days
in
peace
;
but
the
failure
of
an
attorney
left
him
suddenly
penniless
,
and
neither
he
nor
his
wife
was
willing
to
live
in
penury
where
they
had
enjoyed
consideration
.
During
his
sea
faring
days
he
had
cruised
the
South
Seas
,
and
he
determined
now
to
seek
his
fortune
there
.
He
spent
some
months
in
Papeete
to
make
his
plans
and
gain
experience
;
then
,
on
money
borrowed
from
a
friend
in
France
,
he
bought
an
island
in
the
Paumotus
.
It
was
a
ring
of
land
round
a
deep
lagoon
,
uninhabited
,
and
covered
only
with
scrub
and
wild
guava
.
With
the
intrepid
woman
who
was
his
wife
,
and
a
few
natives
,
he
landed
there
,
and
set
about
building
a
house
,
and
clearing
the
scrub
so
that
he
could
plant
cocoa
-
nuts
.
That
was
twenty
years
before
,
and
now
what
had
been
a
barren
island
was
a
garden
.
"
It
was
hard
and
anxious
work
at
first
,
and
we
worked
strenuously
,
both
of
us
.
Every
day
I
was
up
at
dawn
,
clearing
,
planting
,
working
on
my
house
,
and
at
night
when
I
threw
myself
on
my
bed
it
was
to
sleep
like
a
log
till
morning
.
My
wife
worked
as
hard
as
I
did
.
Then
children
were
born
to
us
,
first
a
son
and
then
a
daughter
.
My
wife
and
I
have
taught
them
all
they
know
.
We
had
a
piano
sent
out
from
France
,
and
she
has
taught
them
to
play
and
to
speak
English
,
and
I
have
taught
them
Latin
and
mathematics
,
and
we
read
history
together
.
They
can
sail
a
boat
.
They
can
swim
as
well
as
the
natives
.
There
is
nothing
about
the
land
of
which
they
are
ignorant
.
Our
trees
have
prospered
,
and
there
is
shell
on
my
reef
.