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Terrified women hurried from the stalls and boxes in spite of warning, and got mixed with the maddened crowd, a section of which, pouring out of the Opera-house came incontinently upon the King's carriage in waiting, and forthwith, without any reflection as to the why or the wherefore, smashed it to atoms!
The lithe form quivered and then became motionless in the fierce, straining embrace; the head dropped upon his shoulder, his hot lips caressing the burning face and pouring wild, incoherent words into the little ears. "You! You!" he cried, mad with joy. "Oh, this is Heaven itself! My brave darling! Mine forever mine forever! You shall never leave me now! Drive on!
Their courage and determination were tremendous. It cannot be said that Fred and Sam were actually put to flight, but a regard for truth compels me to state that they continued fleaing the greater part of that morning, and it was not until the sun was high in the heavens pouring down a flood of light into that wild glen that they gained the victory, and lay down to repose on their laurels and straw not to mention the bodies of the dead and dying!
The safety of five hundred people, he said, depended on our discretion; the ship might not ignite for days, if at all, he thought, so carefully had the air been excluded from the cotton by the process of tight calking, so as to seal it almost hermetically; indeed, the fire might be wholly extinguished by the pumps, which were constantly at work, pouring streams of water around and through the hold; and a panic would be equal to a fire in any case.
He was just in the act of pouring this most delectable sauce over the two bits of tender fowl upon our hot plates, when, happening to look up, I saw some one entering the door. "Jean, if you please," said I, deliberately pulling the coat-rack in front of our table, "Mademoiselle perhaps feels a slight draft. Would you fetch a screen?" He turned.
The various gentlemen in attendance paced to and fro within the hall, holding but slight converse together, anxiously counting the minutes, for the time appeared to pass on with unwonted slowness, and ever and anon glancing through the diamond panes of the window at the rain pouring down steadily without, and coming back again hopeless of amendment in the weather.
Captain Bradshaw, who was an excellent judge of wine, called for a glass, and pouring out the claret, tasted it. "I must differ from you, sir; and, moreover, I have no better." "Then I'll trouble you to pass the port, doctor, for I really cannot drink that stuff." "Do you drink port, Mr Bradly?" said the captain, with a countenance as black as a thunder-cloud.
I would not mislead a public whose confidence I court. The book is not a record of globe-trotting. I regret it. It would have been a joy to watch M. Anatole France pouring the clear elixir compounded of his Pyrrhonic philosophy, his Benedictine erudition, his gentle wit and most humane irony into such an unpromising and opaque vessel.
One often sees a tourist, with the eloquent tears pouring down his cheeks, funnel his hands at his wife's ear, and hears him roar through them, "OH, TO BE THERE AND AT REST!" None but the supremely great in art can produce effects like these with the silent brush. Twelve years ago I could not have appreciated this picture. One year ago I could not have appreciated it.
When he had helped himself from the buffet, and came back in haste, the first thing he clapped eyes on was his offspring pouring forth the powder from his flask upon the oaken floor.
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