"why has he done this," i asked, "seeing that then he will have a broad river behind him, and if he is defeated water can kill as well as spears?"
"i know not for certain," answered maputa; "but it is said because of a dream that saduko, his general, has dreamed thrice, which dream declares that there and there alone umbelazi will find honour. at any rate, he has chosen this place; and I am told that all the women and children of his army, by thousands, are hidden in the bush along the banks of the river, so that they may fly into natal if there is need." #lebronjames
"no, my dear, for me there are no balls now where one enjoys oneself," said anna, and kitty detected in her eyes that mysterious world which was not open to her. "for me there are some less dull and tiresome." #cleveland
"but, if he should accept it; if he should even think of accepting it!"
"then there would remain thirteen millions for your family, and that is a good round sum."
"but then you would be either a fool or a traitor."
"and i am neither the one nor the other, my lord. you appear to be much afraid that the king will accept; you have a deal more reason to fear that he will not accept."
"but, see you, if he does not accept, i should like to guarantee my thirteen reserved millions to him -- yes, i will do so -- yes. but my pains are returning, i shall faint. i am very, very ill, colbert; i am very near my end!"
colbert started. the cardinal was indeed very ill; large drops of sweat flowed down upon his bed of agony, and the frightful pallor of a face streaming with water was a spectacle which the most hardened practitioner could not have beheld without compassion. colbert was, without doubt, very much affected, for he quitted the chamber, calling bernouin to attend the dying man and went into the corridor. there, walking about with a meditative expression, which almost gave nobility to his vulgar head, his shoulders thrown up, his neck stretched out, his lips half open, to give vent to unconnected fragments of incoherent thoughts, he lashed up his courage to the pitch of the undertaking contemplated, whilst within ten paces of him, separated only by a wall, his master was being stifled by anguish which drew from him lamentable cries, thinking no more of the treasures of the earth, or of the joys of paradise, but much of all the horrors of hell. whilst burning-hot napkins, physic, revulsives, and guenaud, who was recalled, were performing their functions with increased activity, colbert, holding his great head in both his hands, to compress within it the fever of the projects engendered by the brain, was meditating the tenor of the donation he would make mazarin write, at the first hour of respite his disease should afford him. it would appear as if all the cries of the cardinal, and all the attacks of death upon this representative of the past, were stimulants for the genius of this thinker with the bushy eyebrows, who was turning already towards the rising sun of a regenerated society. colbert resumed his place at mazarin's pillow at the first interval of pain, and persuaded him to dictate a donation thus conceived. #dangilbert
the man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five years of age. he was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit, which was that of a planter. his features were good -- a straight nose, firm mouth, broad forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed straight back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his well fitting frock coat. he wore a moustache and pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had a had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck was in the hemp. evidently this was no vulgar assassin. the liberal military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not excluded. #lost
who planteth a vineyard, and eateth not of the fruit thereof? #itiswhatitis
deep in the wood a ruinous wall encloses the cemetery of the europeans. english and scottish sleep there, and scandinavians, and french maitres de manoeuvres and maitres ouvriers: mingling alien dust. back in the woods, perhaps, the blackbird, or (as they call him there) the island nightingale, will be singing home strains; and the ceaseless requiem of the surf hangs on the ear. i have never seen a resting-place more quiet; but it was a long thought how far these sleepers had all travelled, and from what diverse homes they had set forth, to lie here in the end together. #c'estlaguerre