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Hardy, Thomas, 1840-1928

"Far from the Madding Crowd"


The veins had swollen, and a frenzied look had gleamed
in his eye. He had turned quickly, taken one of the
guns, cocked it, and at once discharged it at Troy.
Troy fell. The distance apart of the two men was
so small that the charge of shot did not spread in the
least, but passed like a bullet into his body. He uttered
a long guttural sigh -- there was a contraction -- an exten-
sion -- then his muscles relaxed, and he lay still.
Boldwood was seen through the smoke to be now
again engaged with the gun. It was double-barrelled,
and he had, meanwhile, in some way fastened his hand-
kerchief to the trigger, and with his foot on the other
end was in the act of turning the second barrel upon
himself. Samway his man was the first to see this, and
in the midst of the general horror darted up to him.
Boldwood had already twitched the handkerchief, and
the gun exploded a second time, sending its contents,
by a timely blow from Samway, into the beam which
crossed the ceiling.
"Well, it makes no difference!" Boldwood gasped.
"There is another way for me to die."
Then he broke from Samway, crossed the room to
Bathsheba, and kissed her hand.


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