But with Nina--from Nina
herself--everything that came from her spoke of truth. A sweet savour
of honesty hung about her breath, and was a blessing to him when he
was near enough to her to feel it. And yet he told himself that he was
bound to doubt. He stood for some half-hour in the archway, leaning
against the stonework at the side, and looking up at the window where
Nina was sitting. What was he to do? How should he carry himself in
this special period of his life? Great ideas about the destiny of his
people were mingled in his mind with suspicions as to Nina, of which he
should have been, and probably was, ashamed. He would certainly take
her away from Prague. He had already perceived that his marriage with a
Christian would be regarded in that stronghold of prejudice in which
he lived with so much animosity as to impede, and perhaps destroy, the
utility of his career. He would go away, taking Nina with him. And he
would be careful that she should never know, by a word or a look, that
he had in any way suffered for her sake.
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