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"Well, good people! what would ye have?" asked the Countess. In answer, the old man lifted his head, pulled away a mass of false grey hair and a wax mask from, his face, and the old Jew pedlar, Abraham of Norwich, stood before the astonished ladies. "I am come," he said in a voice broken by emotion, "to claim my Lady's promise." "What promise, old man?"
They gave no more heed to the terrific peals of thunder than they would have done to so many Chinese gongs. While watching the attack upon his centre and providing against it, General Marston was also seeking to penetrate, by means of a powerful glass, the mask of the grove, and so detected a concentration on his left.
Blows's face softened; he had no idea that he had established himself so firmly in the affections of his fellow-townsmen. "Four mourning carriages," continued his wife, "and the the hearse, all covered in flowers so that you couldn't see it 'ardly. One wreath cost two pounds." Mr. Blows endeavoured to conceal his gratification beneath a mask of surliness.
He had not turned his head, not a muscle of his face had moved, and his features had remained as motionless as the golden mask of a mummy, yet his eyes had turned between his painted eyelids towards Tahoser, and a flash of desire had lighted up their sombre discs, an effect as terrific as if the granite eyes of a divine simulacrum, suddenly lighted up, were to express a human thought.
And you are wondering why I am on such friendly terms with Lord Littimer under the circumstances. And I am wondering why you should call yourself John Smith." The listener coolly flicked the ash from his cigarette. His face was like a mask. "John Smith is a good name," he said. "Can you suggest a better?" "If you ask me to do so I can. I should call myself John Rawlins."
They had talked of all things, but it seemed to her that of the real man she had never had a glimpse. Never did he unbend, never did he lift the mask he wore. He was interesting, but very unhuman, and he paraded his ideas and his sneers as the lay figures did the mail-armour on the castle stairway.
He was strongly built, and, despite a certain fulness, he was well-proportioned; strength, however, untrammelled, powerful, raw strength was his salient characteristic. Heimert's frame, too broad and too short, and crowned by its mask of a comic clown, looked almost deformed by the side of the other.
As the blood spurted from the wound, it was caught in a large but shallow wooden bowl or ladle, furnished with a handle. When this was nearly full, the mask was taken off the cheetah, and upon seeing the spoon full of blood it relaxed its grasp and immediately began to lap the blood from its well-known ladle.
She replaced her mask, stood up, and placing her arm within that of the supposed Prince, they crossed the hall and entered a side-room. The Countess uttered many bitter complaints against the Chamberlain, but they were the complaints of jealous love. The Countess was in tears, when the tender Brahmin soon after came timidly into the apartment. There was a deep silence among the three.
"Because, if you don't, I shall not send for another doctor. I shall send for the police authorities." She sank down again upon the divan. But her expression did not change. He believed that she succeeded in making her face a mere mask while she thought with a furious rapidity.
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