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And when he looked down from his perch in the tree and saw, through the hole in the stranger’s crown, that all was aglow inside his big, round head, Solomon couldn’t help voicing his horror. He “whoo-whooed” so loudly that Tommy Fox, at the foot of the tree, asked him what on earth was the matter. “His head’s all afire!” Solomon Owl told him. “That’s what makes his eyes glare so.
The gray ordered me to stand by him; and much discourse passed between him and his friend concerning me, as I found by the stranger’s often looking on me, and the frequent repetition of the word Yahoo. I happened to wear my gloves, which the master gray observing, seemed perplexed, discovering signs of wonder what I had done to my fore-feet.
But mein, vat you call?—introdogtions zey are not inside, zat is zey are from off. Not von, all, every single gone to ze gontry or to abroad. I am alone, I eat my dinner in zolitude, I am pleased to meet you, sare.” A cork popped and the champagne frothed into the stranger’s glass. Raising it to his lips, he said, “Prosit!”
He spoke very little about himself, though from time to time points of detail were elicited of his history in the course of conversation. He said that his name was Cæcilius. Asper, when he entered the room, would kneel down and offer to kiss the stranger’s sandal, though the latter generally managed to prevent it.
"What a queer old fellow this is!" muttered the people among themselves, hardly knowing whether to laugh or to be angry. But, when they looked into the venerable stranger’s face, not the most thoughtless among them dared to offer him the least impertinence.
I hastily arose to a sitting posture, but my alarm subsided when in the dim light of the fire I could trace the outline of another man’s figure, and on a stick close to the stranger’s head roosted a giant bird. Could it be that this wild man of the mountain—possibly my own father—was camping with us? “Moseyed, by gum!
The chill recollections of his sixteen quarterings and the exclusiveness he had determined to maintain as becoming to his rank were already melting, and he met the stranger’s eye with what for the life of him he could not help being a cordial look.
Old Bill never quite knew how it happened, but he suddenly found himself up in front holding the stranger’s hand and telling him that he wanted help to quit drink. Side by side they knelt while the saved man earnestly poured out his heart to God for the drunkard. Old Bill did not know how to pray, he had never tried in his life, but he wanted help; all his soul longed for it.
That morning he had mocked at Nemesis. That night he heard the beating of her brazen wings. Despite exile, life had moved pleasantly for Hermippus’s household that spring. The Trœzenians had surpassed all duties to Zeus Xenios—the stranger’s god—in entertaining the outcast Athenians. The fugitives had received two obols per day to keep them in figs and porridge.
The stranger looked at him steadily for a moment, and an expression of disgust and horror crept over his bold face. "Alas!" he said at length, speaking, it would seem, to himself rather than to the others, "poor Rome! unhappy country!" But, as he spoke, the strong smith, whose suspicion would seem to have been excited, stepped forward and laid his hand upon the stranger’s shoulder.
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