He loved the gigantic peace the Desert gave him. The world was forgotten there; and not the world merely, but all memory of it. Everything faded out. The soul turned inwards upon itself.
An Arab boy and donkey took out sleeping-bag, food and water to the Wadi Hof, a desolate2 gorge3 about an hour eastwards4. It winds between cliffs whose summits rise some thousand feet above the sea. It opens suddenly, cut deep into the swaying world of level plateaux and undulating hills. It moves about too; he never found it in the same place twice — like an arm of the Desert that shifted with the changing lights. Here he watched dawns and sunsets, slept through the mid-day heat, and enjoyed the unearthly colouring that swept Day and Night across the huge horizons. In solitude5 the Desert soaked down into him. At night the jackals cried in the darkness round his cautiously-fed camp fire — small, because wood had to be carried — and in the day-time kites circled overhead to inspect him, and an occasional white vulture flapped across the blue. The weird6 desolation of this rocky valley, he thought, was like the scenery of the moon. He took no watch with him, and the arrival of the donkey boy an hour after sunrise came almost from another planet, bringing things of time and common life out of some distant gulf7 where they had lain forgotten among lost ages.
The short hour of twilight8 brought, too, a bewitchment into the silence that was a little less than comfortable. Full light or darkness he could manage, but this time of half things made him want to shut his eyes and hide. Its effect stepped over imagination. The mind got lost. He could not understand it. For the cliffs and boulders9 of discoloured limestone10 shone then with an inward glow that signalled to the Desert with veiled lanterns. The misshappen hills, carved by wind and rain into ominous11 outlines, stirred and nodded. In the morning light they retired12 into themselves, asleep. But at dusk the tide retreated. They rose from the sea, emerging naked, threatening. They ran together and joined shoulders, the entire army of them. And the glow of their sandy bodies, self-luminous, continued even beneath the stars. Only the moonlight drowned it. For the moonrise over the Mokattam Hills brought a white, grand loveliness that drenched13 the entire Desert. It drew a marvellous sweetness from the sand. It shone across a world as yet unfinished, whereon no life might show itself for ages yet to come. He was alone then upon an empty star, before the creation of things that breathed and moved.
What impressed him, however, more than everything else was the enormous vitality14 that rose out of all this apparent death. There was no hint of the melancholy15 that belongs commonly to flatness; the sadness of wide, monotonous16 landscape was not here. The endless repetition of sweeping17 vale and plateau brought infinity18 within measurable comprehension. He grasped a definite meaning in the phrase “world without end”: the Desert had no end and no beginning. It gave him a sense of eternal peace, the silent peace that star-fields know. Instead of subduing19 the soul with bewilderment, it inspired with courage, confidence, hope. Through this sand which was the wreck20 of countless21 geological ages, rushed life that was terrific and uplifting, too huge to include melancholy, too deep to betray itself in movement. Here was the stillness of eternity22. Behind the spread grey masque of apparent death lay stores of accumulated life, ready to break forth23 at any point. In the Desert he felt himself absolutely royal.
And this contrast of Life, veiling itself in Death, was a contradiction that somehow intoxicated24. The Desert exhilaration never left him. He was never alone. A companionship of millions went with him, and he felt the Desert close, as stars are close to one another, or grains of sand.
It was the Khamasin, the hot wind bringing sand, that drove him in-with the feeling that these few days and nights had been immeasurable, and that he had been away a thousand years. He came back with the magic of the Desert in his blood, hotel-life tasteless and insipid25 by comparison. To human impressions thus he was fresh and vividly26 sensitive. His being, cleaned and sensitized by pure grandeur27, “felt” people — for a time at any rate — with an uncommon28 sharpness of receptive judgment29. He returned to a life somehow mean and meagre, resuming insignificance30 with his dinner jacket. Out with the sand he had been regal; now, like a slave, he strutted31 self-conscious and reduced.
But this imperial standard of the Desert stayed a little time beside him, its purity focussing judgment like a lens. The specks32 of smaller emotions left it clear at first, and as his eye wandered vaguely33 over the people assembled in the dining-room, it was arrested with a vivid shock upon two figures at the little table facing him.
He had forgotten Vance, the Birmingham man who sought the North at midnight with a pocket compass. He now saw him again, with an intuitive discernment entirely34 fresh. Before memory brought up her clouding associations, some brilliance35 flashed a light upon him. “That man,” Henriot thought, “might have come with me. He would have understood and loved it!” But the thought was really this — a moment’s reflection spread it, rather: “He belongs somewhere to the Desert; the Desert brought him out here.” And, again, hidden swiftly behind it like a movement running below water —“What does he want with it? What is the deeper motive36 he conceals38? For there is a deeper motive; and it is concealed39.”
But it was the woman seated next him who absorbed his attention really, even while this thought flashed and went its way. The empty chair was occupied at last. Unlike his first encounter with the man, she looked straight at him. Their eyes met fully40. For several seconds there was steady mutual41 inspection42, while her penetrating43 stare, intent without being rude, passed searchingly all over his face. It was disconcerting. Crumbling44 his bread, he looked equally hard at her, unable to turn away, determined45 not to be the first to shift his gaze. And when at length she lowered her eyes he felt that many things had happened, as in a long period of intimate conversation. Her mind had judged him through and through. Questions and answer flashed. They were no longer strangers. For the rest of dinner, though he was careful to avoid direct inspection, he was aware that she felt his presence and was secretly speaking with him. She asked questions beneath her breath. The answers rose with the quickened pulses in his blood. Moreover, she explained Richard Vance. It was this woman’s power that shone reflected in the man. She was the one who knew the big, unusual things. Vance merely echoed the rush of her vital personality.
This was the first impression that he got — from the most striking, curious face he had ever seen in a woman. It remained very near him all through the meal: she had moved to his table, it seemed she sat beside him. Their minds certainly knew contact from that moment.
It is never difficult to credit strangers with the qualities and knowledge that oneself craves46 for, and no doubt Henriot’s active fancy went busily to work. But, none the less, this thing remained and grew: that this woman was aware of the hidden things of Egypt he had always longed to know. There was knowledge and guidance she could impart. Her soul was searching among ancient things. Her face brought the Desert back into his thoughts. And with it came — the sand.
Here was the flash. The sight of her restored the peace and splendour he had left behind him in his Desert camps. The rest, of course, was what his imagination constructed upon this slender basis. Only — not all of it was imagination.
Now, Henriot knew little enough of women, and had no pose of “understanding” them. His experience was of the slightest; the love and veneration47 felt for his own mother had set the entire sex upon the heights. His affairs with women, if so they may be called, had been transient — all but those of early youth, which having never known the devastating48 test of fulfilment, still remained ideal and superb. There was unconscious humour in his attitude — from a distance; for he regarded women with wonder and respect, as puzzles that sweetened but complicated life, might even endanger it. He certainly was not a marrying man! But now, as he felt the presence of this woman so deliberately49 possess him, there came over him two clear, strong messages, each vivid with certainty. One was that banal50 suggestion of familiarity claimed by lovers and the like — he had often heard of it —“I have known that woman before; I have met her ages ago somewhere; she is strangely familiar to me”; and the other, growing out of it almost: “Have nothing to do with her; she will bring you trouble and confusion; avoid her, and be warned”; — in fact, a distinct presentiment51.
Yet, although Henriot dismissed both impressions as having no shred52 of evidence to justify53 them, the original clear judgment, as he studied her extraordinary countenance54, persisted through all denials The familiarity, and the presentiment, remained. There also remained this other — an enormous imaginative leap! — that she could teach him “Egypt.”
He watched her carefully, in a sense fascinated. He could only describe the face as black, so dark it was with the darkness of great age. Elderly was the obvious, natural word; but elderly described the features only. The expression of the face wore centuries. Nor was it merely the coal-black eyes that betrayed an ancient, age-travelled soul behind them. The entire presentment mysteriously conveyed it. This woman’s heart knew long-forgotten things — the thought kept beating up against him. There were cheek-bones, oddly high, that made him think involuntarily of the well-advertised Pharaoh, Ramases; a square, deep jaw55; and an aquiline56 nose that gave the final touch of power. For the power undeniably was there, and while the general effect had grimness in it, there was neither harshness nor any forbidding touch about it. There was an implacable sternness in the set of lips and jaw, and, most curious of all, the eyelids57 over the steady eyes of black were level as a ruler. This level framing made the woman’s stare remarkable58 beyond description. Henriot thought of an idol59 carved in stone, stone hard and black, with eyes that stared across the sand into a world of things non-human, very far away, forgotten of men. The face was finely ugly. This strange dark beauty flashed flame about it.
And, as the way ever was with him, Henriot next fell to constructing the possible lives of herself and her companion, though without much success. Imagination soon stopped dead. She was not old enough to be Vance’s mother, and assuredly she was not his wife. His interest was more than merely piqued60 — it was puzzled uncommonly61. What was the contrast that made the man seem beside her — vile62? Whence came, too, the impression that she exercised some strong authority, though never directly exercised, that held him at her mercy? How did he guess that the man resented it, yet did not dare oppose, and that, apparently63 acquiescing64 good-humouredly, his will was deliberately held in abeyance65, and that he waited sulkily, biding66 his time? There was furtiveness67 in every gesture and expression. A hidden motive lurked68 in him; unworthiness somewhere; he was determined yet ashamed. He watched her ceaselessly and with such uncanny closeness.
Henriot imagined he divined all this. He leaped to the guess that his expenses were being paid. A good deal more was being paid besides. She was a rich relation, from whom he had expectations; he was serving his seven years, ashamed of his servitude, ever calculating escape — but, perhaps, no ordinary escape. A faint shudder69 ran over him. He drew in the reins70 of imagination.
Of course, the probabilities were that he was hopelessly astray — one usually is on such occasions — but this time, it so happened, he was singularly right. Before one thing only his ready invention stopped every time. This vileness71, this notion of unworthiness in Vance, could not be negative merely. A man with that face was no inactive weakling. The motive he was at such pains to conceal37, betraying its existence by that very fact, moved, surely, towards aggressive action. Disguised, it never slept. Vance was sharply on the alert. He had a plan deep out of sight. And Henriot remembered how the man’s soft approach along the carpeted corridor had made him start. He recalled the quasi shock it gave him. He thought again of the feeling of discomfort72 he had experienced.
Next, his eager fancy sought to plumb73 the business these two had together in Egypt — in the Desert. For the Desert, he felt convinced, had brought them out. But here, though he constructed numerous explanations, another barrier stopped him. Because he knew. This woman was in touch with that aspect of ancient Egypt he himself had ever sought in vain; and not merely with stones the sand had buried so deep, but with the meanings they once represented, buried so utterly74 by the sands of later thought.
And here, being ignorant, he found no clue that could lead to any satisfactory result, for he possessed75 no knowledge that might guide him. He floundered — until Fate helped him. And the instant Fate helped him, the warning and presentiment he had dismissed as fanciful, became real again. He hesitated. Caution acted. He would think twice before taking steps to form acquaintance. “Better not,” thought whispered. “Better leave them alone, this queer couple. They’re after things that won’t do you any good.” This idea of mischief76, almost of danger, in their purposes was oddly insistent77; for what could possibly convey it? But, while he hesitated, Fate, who sent the warning, pushed him at the same time into the circle of their lives: at first tentatively — he might still have escaped; but soon urgently — curiosity led him inexorably towards the end.
点击收听单词发音
1 climax | |
n.顶点;高潮;v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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2 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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3 gorge | |
n.咽喉,胃,暴食,山峡;v.塞饱,狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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4 eastwards | |
adj.向东方(的),朝东(的);n.向东的方向 | |
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5 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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6 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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7 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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8 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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9 boulders | |
n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 );巨砾;(受水或天气侵蚀而成的)巨石;漂砾 | |
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10 limestone | |
n.石灰石 | |
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11 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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12 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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13 drenched | |
adj.湿透的;充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
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14 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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15 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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16 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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17 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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18 infinity | |
n.无限,无穷,大量 | |
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19 subduing | |
征服( subdue的现在分词 ); 克制; 制服; 色变暗 | |
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20 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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21 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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22 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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23 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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24 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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25 insipid | |
adj.无味的,枯燥乏味的,单调的 | |
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26 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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27 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
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28 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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29 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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30 insignificance | |
n.不重要;无价值;无意义 | |
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31 strutted | |
趾高气扬地走,高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32 specks | |
n.眼镜;斑点,微粒,污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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33 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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34 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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35 brilliance | |
n.光辉,辉煌,壮丽,(卓越的)才华,才智 | |
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36 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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37 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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38 conceals | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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39 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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40 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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41 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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42 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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43 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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44 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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45 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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46 craves | |
渴望,热望( crave的第三人称单数 ); 恳求,请求 | |
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47 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
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48 devastating | |
adj.毁灭性的,令人震惊的,强有力的 | |
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49 deliberately | |
adv.审慎地;蓄意地;故意地 | |
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50 banal | |
adj.陈腐的,平庸的 | |
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51 presentiment | |
n.预感,预觉 | |
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52 shred | |
v.撕成碎片,变成碎片;n.碎布条,细片,些少 | |
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53 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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54 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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55 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
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56 aquiline | |
adj.钩状的,鹰的 | |
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57 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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58 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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59 idol | |
n.偶像,红人,宠儿 | |
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60 piqued | |
v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 );激起(好奇心) | |
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61 uncommonly | |
adv. 稀罕(极,非常) | |
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62 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
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63 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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64 acquiescing | |
v.默认,默许( acquiesce的现在分词 ) | |
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65 abeyance | |
n.搁置,缓办,中止,产权未定 | |
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66 biding | |
v.等待,停留( bide的现在分词 );居住;(过去式用bided)等待;面临 | |
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67 furtiveness | |
偷偷摸摸,鬼鬼祟祟 | |
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68 lurked | |
vi.潜伏,埋伏(lurk的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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69 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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70 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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71 vileness | |
n.讨厌,卑劣 | |
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72 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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73 plumb | |
adv.精确地,完全地;v.了解意义,测水深 | |
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74 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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75 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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76 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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77 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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