' The man tells him who he is, and explains to him
one awful mystery of these regions. Then he says, 'Now stretch forth thy
hand, and open my eyes.' 'And,' says Dante, I did not open them for him;
and rudeness to him was courtesy.'"
"But he promised, you said."
"He did; and yet he did not do it. Pity and truth had abandoned him
together. One would think little of it comparatively, were it not that
Dante is so full of tenderness and grand religion. It is very awful, and
may teach us many things."
"But what made you think of that now?"
"Merely what Coombes was about. The visual image was all. He was scooping
the green moss out of the eyes of the death's-head on the gravestone."
By this time we were on the top of the downs, and the wind was buffeting
us, and every other minute assailing us with a blast of rain. Wynnie drew
her cloak closer about her, bent her head towards the blast, and struggled
on bravely by my side. No one who wants to enjoy a walk in the rain must
carry an umbrella; it is pure folly.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75