Explore "To Win the Love He Sought" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The Count was left to himself in the bare, untidy-looking parlor, and for a minute or two he was content to sit quite still and recover himself after the unaccustomed exertion of speech. He needed all his strength for what lay before him, but, by degrees, his restlessness grew. He rose from his chair and paced up and down in increasing excitement -- his misgivings were growing fainter -- he worked himself up into the firm belief that the day for which he had waited so long was at hand.
"They dare not deny me! " he cried, lifting his hands high above his head until they almost touched the smoke-begrimed ceiling; "it is my due, my just reward!"