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Leon, you are my curse, my blessing too, My hell, my heaven, my storm that wrecks to save: Life daunts me, and the shadows lengthen out Beyond the grave. Do you know, gentle reader, what an interesting, valuable, and useful book an "Almanack" once was? You are gorged with books, and newspapers lie about thick as leaves in Vallambrosa. Do you ever buy an Almanac for five cents? I trow not.
It is the miracle of soul in sex. Every clean-hearted youth that has had the happiness to marry a good woman and, thank Heaven, clean youths and good women are thick as leaves in Vallambrosa in this sturdy old world of ours every such youth has had his day of holy conversion, his touch of the wand conferring upon him the miracle of love, and he has been a better and wiser man for it.
Therese rested on the balustrade of the terrace and sought in the distance, in the depth of the sea of light, the peaks of Vallambrosa, almost as blue as the sky. Jacques Dechartre looked at her.
No coat or trousers he wore could possibly go on the young Hercules before him. "Oh, well," urged the latter, impatiently, "get some, somewhere. Here. Take a run into town. Use my car if you like. Or go to some one you know who's about my size. Only, mum's the word." Five-dollar bills were in the air, fluttering before the eyes of the garage-owner like leaves in Vallambrosa.
We can hear the postman guy him all over the house when he brings them thick envelopes back. Say do you live in the Vallambrosa?" "I do not," said the young man. "I come to see Bevens sometimes. He's my friend. I live two blocks west." "What are you going to do with the onion? begging your pardon," said Hetty. "I'm going to eat it." "Raw?" "Yes: as soon as I get home."
Therese rested on the balustrade of the terrace and sought in the distance, in the depth of the sea of light, the peaks of Vallambrosa, almost as blue as the sky. Jacques Dechartre looked at her.
Stagg and I used to stroll up to Fiesole, by the villa where Boccaccio's party of story-tellers met, and look up old pictures in the village church; we measured the proportions of the chapel on the hill of Saint Miniato, and he endeavored in vain to imitate the hue of the light as it fell through the veined marble of Serravezza; we spent contemplative afternoons in the house of Michael Angelo, and went up to Vallambrosa, at the risk of our necks, to look at a Giotto no bigger than a tea-plate.
It was a new flathouse, bearing carved upon its cheap stone portal its sonorous name, "The Vallambrosa." Fire-escapes zigzagged down its front these laden with household goods, drying clothes, and squalling children evicted by the midsummer heat. Here and there a pale rubber plant peeped from the miscellaneous mass, as if wondering to what kingdom it belonged vegetable, animal or artificial.
"Aye, and there was a Donna Bianca Vallambrosa, a fine woman, I mind, was suspected of Lutheranism so they racked her and she in torment confessed whatsoever they would and accused her sister Donna Luisa likewise. So they burned 'em both and made 'em pay for stake and chain and faggots too, afore they died."
"That's right, Hattie," he said; "finish it, and I will scatter it thick as the leaves of Vallambrosa," and so came "Uncle Tom," and Plymouth Church became a stronghold where the slave always found refuge and a strong helper.
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