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"I think he threw that final game," says Amory of Korchnoi's

source:iostime:2023-12-05 01:30:35

TRESHAM. Yes, Or no? You'll come into the light, or no? My hand is on your throat--refuse!--

MERTOUN. That voice! Where have I heard... no--that was mild and slow. I'll come with you. [They advance.]

TRESHAM. You're armed: that's well. Declare Your name: who are you?

MERTOUN. (Tresham!--she is lost!)

TRESHAM. Oh, silent? Do you know, you bear yourself Exactly as, in curious dreams I've had How felons, this wild earth is full of, look When they're detected, still your kind has looked! The bravo holds an assured countenance, The thief is voluble and plausible, But silently the slave of lust has crouched When I have fancied it before a man. Your name!

MERTOUN. I do conjure Lord Tresham--ay, Kissing his foot, if so I might prevail-- That he for his own sake forbear to ask My name! As heaven's above, his future weal Or woe depends upon my silence! Vain! I read your white inexorable face. Know me, Lord Tresham! [He throws off his disguises.]

TRESHAM. Mertoun! [After a pause.] Draw now!

MERTOUN. Hear me But speak first!