cleaning up so well (jones_casey) wrote,
cleaning up so well

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no one is really educated who has not seen new lands and met new people

the perils of pauline

wednesday lxxxvii

in his studio alone, by the dying light of the october day, he sat (sure enough with 'unaffected simplicity') in a windsor chair, his low-crowned black felt hat by his side; a dark, weak, harmless, pathetic little man, clad in the hue of mourning, his coat longer than is usual with the laity, his neck enclosed in a collar without a parting, his neckcloth pale in hue and simply tied; the whole outward man, except for a pointed beard, tentatively clerical. there was a thinning on the top of pitman's head, there were silver hairs at pitman's temple. poor gentleman, he was no longer young; and years, and poverty, and humble ambition thwarted, make a cheerless lot.

i awaited his next question with impatience, but it disappointed me.

"you give magnus derrick my compliments and tell him he's a fool."

the bottom card represents the critical factor that decides what will come to pass. cavaliere di mazze (knight of wands): the essence of fire, such a great conflagration. one filled with vitality and passion for life. a sexy and exciting person, daring in their actions, cocky in their attitude, and utterly without fear. absolute sincerity, coupled with violent emotions that swing wildly from one extreme to another. boundless creativity and lust for a change of both pace and place. the rapid approach, or more likely departure, of something that sets your world ablaze. often suggests travel or escape.

the adventurer laughed shortly.

"she is quite closely connected with that gentleman we left airing himself on the fire escape," he said grimly. "gypsy nan is danglar's wife."

it was very strange, very curious - the alleyway seemed suddenly to be revolving around and around, and it seemed to bring her a giddiness and a faintness. the adventurer was standing there before her, but she did not see him any more; she could only see, as from a brink upon which she tottered, a gulf, abysmal in its horror, that yawned before her.

"thank you - thank you for the warning." was that her voice speaking so calmly and dispassionately? "i will remember it. but i must go now. good-night again!"

he said something. she did not know what. she only knew that she was hurrying along the alleyway now, and that he had made no effort to stop her, and that she was grateful to him for that, and that her composure, strained to the breaking point, would have given away if she had remained with him another instant. danglar's wife! it was dark here in the alley-way, and she did not know where it led to. but did it matter? and she stumbled as she went along. but it was not the physical inability to see that made her stumble - it was a brain-blindness that fogged her soul itself. his wife! gypsy nan was danglar's wife.

not yet, my good friend; the hour is too early.

"that was worthy of mozart!" he exclaimed. "see how that german can handle his chords, and through what masterly modulations he raises the image of terror to come to the dominant c. i can hear all hell in it!"

i wanted to take him with me. but the obstinate canadian refused, and i saw that his taciturnity and his bad humour grew day by day.

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