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He blinked in the stronger sunshine, and felt it warm upon his eyelids. "Halleluia!" said the voice again. It certainly came from the wall. He looked again, and, scanning it in this strange, new light, was aware of a wren in one of the crevices. "Will he? will he?" piped another voice, pretty close behind his ear.
He sat there for a long while, puckering his brows, his gun idle beside him. At last he said to himself, but firmly and aloud: "Parson and the rest say 'tis true. But I can't believe it, and something inside says 'tis wrong. . . . There! I won't shoot another bird and that settles it!" "Halleluia!" said a tiny voice somewhere above him. The voice, though' tiny, was shrill and positive.
Services were conducted three times a day on Sunday, morning at eleven, in afternoon about three and at night at eight o'clock. The manner of worship was very much in keeping with present day modes. Preachers appealed to the emotions of the 'flock' and the congregation responded with "amens," "halleluia," clapping of hands, shouting and screaming.
Zola brings up his society in such a way that, if everything that he planted would take root, the second of Musset's verses would be: "But to-day we will give you even the Seine." But it is not as bad as that. "La Débâcle" is a remarkable book, notwithstanding all its faults, but the soldiers, who will read it, will be defeated by those who in the night sing: "Glory, Glory, Halleluia!"
He passed his hand over it: no bolt, no lock! A latch! He started up, the latch yielded to the pressure of his thumb: the door silently swung open before him. "Halleluia!" murmured the rabbi in a transport of gratitude as, standing on the threshold, he beheld the scene before him.
"I'm an old fool to give way like this, an' a worse one to let you catch me at it. But it ain't wholly Edith I'm cryin' about. Land, every time I start to curse the devil for Jack Weston, I get interrupted because I have to stop an' thank the Lord for Peter. An' all the angels in heaven together singin' Halleluia led by Gabriel for choir-master, couldn't half express my feelin's for Sylvia!
'I have heard, sir, said I, 'that this masterpiece was a poem on Dancing. But you must be thinking of another. 'Not at all, young man, my host replied, poring anew into his toy. "Orchestra" is the name of it; the subject, Dancing. But what dancing! the sun, the moon, the stars Eh? Halleluia, but it goes again!
He passed his hand over it: no bolt, no lock! A latch! He started up, the latch yielded to the pressure of his thumb: the door silently swung open before him. "HALLELUIA!" murmured the rabbi in a transport of gratitude as, standing on the threshold, he beheld the scene before him.
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