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"I want to go there," I call to my friend. She turns around. Her childlike face has now become grave and madonna like. She seems to have aged by years. Her words echo in my ear like the sounds of broken chimes. "He who carries the sword cannot mount to the moon." My boyish stubbornness revolts. "But I want to get to my friend Muenchausen." "He who carries the sword has no friend."
From time to time a small, pale-blue cloud of steam whirled upward, and a gentle odour of burning charcoal tickled my nostrils. Before me on the table lay open Sallust's "Catilinarian Conspiracy!" But what did I care for Sallust? Yonder on the book shelf, laughing and alluring in its gorgeous cover stood the first novel that I ever read "The Adventures of Baron Muenchausen!"
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