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Elaine closed my mouth with my fingers, and panting, with dilated eyes and with such a pale face that I thought she was going to faint, she said hoarsely: "Be quiet, be quiet, you are frightening me,... frightening me as if you were a madman...."
Elaine hesitated. She was thinking not so much of his words as of Kennedy. To them all, however, it seemed that she was unable to make up her mind what, in the wealth of her luxury, she would like. Susie Martin had been wondering whether, now that Bennett was here, she were not de trop, and she looked at her wrist watch mechanically. As she did so, an idea occurred to her.
Why did I go there, where the calm of the country, the silence of the solitude and my recollections, irritated me and recalled my trouble, where I suffered even more than I did in Paris, and where I thought of Elaine every moment I seemed to see her and to hear her, in a species of hallucination.
When Elaine heard also that Sir Launcelot was grievously wounded and that the knights knew not where he lay, she said to Sir Bernard, her father: "Now I request you give me leave to ride and to seek him, or else I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never stop till that I find him and my brother, Sir Lavaine."
And Lancelot stayed at Astolat till evening, and he told many tales of Arthur's court. As Elaine and Lavaine listened to his voice, and looked at his face, with the scars of many battles on it, they loved him. 'I will be his squire and follow him, thought Lavaine, and Elaine wished that she might follow the strange knight too.
The whole roof of the chamber fell with a crash, earth and stone overwhelming Elaine and her assailant. By this time Joshua had left the house and had gone out into the garden to get something to pry open the fireplace door. Of a sudden, to his utter amazement, a few feet from him, it seemed as if the very earth sank in his garden, leaving a yawning chasm. He looked, unable to make it out.
She was standing against one of the pilasters at the side of the room, laughing demurely at the antics of Becky Sharp and Sir John Falstaff, Miss Puss Russell and Mr. Jack Brinsmade, respectively. Mr. Tennyson's "Idylls" having appeared but the year before, Anne was dressed as Elaine, a part which suited her very well. Eugenie went as Marie Antoinette.
When dusting the shelves, after they were empty, Elaine came upon a panel in the wall which slid back. "Here's a secret drawer!" she cried, in wild delight. "How perfectly lovely! Do you suppose there's anything in it?" Dorothy instantly thought of money and diamonds, but the concealed treasure proved to be merely a book.
There is no reason to believe that the music is built throughout upon such a detailed and specific plan as underlies, for example, the "Lancelot and Elaine"; the notable fact is that MacDowell has attained in this work to a power and weight of utterance, an eloquence of communication, a ripeness of style, and a security and strength of workmanship, which he had not hitherto brought to the fulfilment of an avowedly impressionistic scheme.
Something in her bearing and trailing dress, perhaps, gave her a mediaeval aspect which suited with the house. The latter, I have been told, was formerly a baronial holding, and the fair Enid and the young Elaine appeared to be at one with her own childhood.
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