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Then the brutal minions of the law fell upon the hapless Toad; loaded him with chains, and dragged him from the Court House, shrieking, praying, protesting; across the market-place, where the playful populace, always as severe upon detected crime as they are sympathetic and helpful when one is merely "wanted," assailed him with jeers, carrots, and popular catch-words; past hooting school children, their innocent faces lit up with the pleasure they ever derive from the sight of a gentleman in difficulties; across the hollow-sounding drawbridge, below the spiky portcullis, under the frowning archway of the grim old castle, whose ancient towers soared high overhead; past guardrooms full of grinning soldiery off duty, past sentries who coughed in a horrid, sarcastic way, because that is as much as a sentry on his post dare do to show his contempt and abhorrence of crime; up time-worn winding stairs, past men-at-arms in casquet and corselet of steel, darting threatening looks through their vizards; across courtyards, where mastiffs strained at their leash and pawed the air to get at him; past ancient warders, their halberds leant against the wall, dozing over a pasty and a flagon of brown ale; on and on, past the rack-chamber and the thumbscrew-room, past the turning that led to the private scaffold, till they reached the door of the grimmest dungeon that lay in the heart of the innermost keep.
There is but little of interest in the present buildings at Vallombrosa, which date from the seventeenth century; nor does the church itself possess anything of importance, unless it be the relic of S. Giovanni enshrined in a casquet of the sixteenth century, a work of Paolo Soliano. About three hundred feet above the monastery is the old Hermitage the Celle now an hotel.
It is like some miniature and magic church, a casquet made splendid not with jewels but with beauty, where the miracle picture of Madonna not that ancient and wonderful picture by Ugolino da Siena, but a work, it is said, of Bernardo Daddi glows under the lamps.
By art I do not mean painting and sculpture but every kind of decoration, and most kinds of pictorial representation the image of a boy's kite or a girl's battledore not less than the design upon a lacquered casquet or enameled vase, the figure upon a work-man's trowel not less than the pattern of the girdle of a princess, the shape of the paper doll or wooden rattle bought for a baby, not less than the forms of those colossal Ni-O, who guard the gateways of the Buddha's temples," etc.
By art I do not mean painting and sculpture but every kind of decoration, and most kinds of pictorial representation the image of a boy's kite or a girl's battledore not less than the design upon a lacquered casquet or enameled vase, the figure upon a workman's trowel not less than the pattern of the girdle of a princess, the shape of the paper doll or wooden rattle bought for a baby, not less than the forms of those colossal Ni-O who guard the gateways of the Buddha's temples," etc.
Morgan signalled 'em by searchlight: 'Alter course to South Seventeen East, so as not to lose time, They came round quick. We kept well away on their port beam and Morgan gave 'em their orders." He looked at Morgan and coughed. M. to rendezvous near Channel Islands, seven miles N.N.W. the Casquet light. Destroyer flotilla then dug out on course indicated, all funnels sparking briskly."
Then the brutal minions of the law fell upon the hapless Toad; loaded him with chains, and dragged him from the Court House, shrieking, praying, protesting; across the marketplace, where the playful populace, always as severe upon detected crime as they are sympathetic and helpful when one is merely 'wanted, assailed him with jeers, carrots, and popular catch-words; past hooting school children, their innocent faces lit up with the pleasure they ever derive from the sight of a gentleman in difficulties; across the hollow-sounding drawbridge, below the spiky portcullis, under the frowning archway of the grim old castle, whose ancient towers soared high overhead; past guardrooms full of grinning soldiery off duty, past sentries who coughed in a horrid, sarcastic way, because that is as much as a sentry on his post dare do to show his contempt and abhorrence of crime; up time-worn winding stairs, past men-at-arms in casquet and corselet of steel, darting threatening looks through their vizards; across courtyards, where mastiffs strained at their leash and pawed the air to get at him; past ancient warders, their halberds leant against the wall, dozing over a pasty and a flagon of brown ale; on and on, past the rack-chamber and the thumbscrew-room, past the turning that led to the private scaffold, till they reached the door of the grimmest dungeon that lay in the heart of the innermost keep.
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