The Night-Cellar. It was the same Bios whose nature and drift and ways and methods and
aspects engaged them all. He would
discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some
unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing
clearness. The chair
had extension arms over which a man might comfortably dangle his legs. Young and old were dressed in their gayest
apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance,
from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of
several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all
classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. What right had
she to call herself “Alcide”? It was abominable, an imposture. She were that miserable. There are times
when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected
thing. I want to make you feel that here
is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow. It would not have interested him in the least to learn that the tub ran on
two powers—wind and oil. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind
his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal
gusto at situations as flatly apprehended.
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This video was uploaded to dantasticfood.net on 01-07-2024 23:12:58