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Updated: May 20, 2025
The eaves hung over and beetled like his brows, and he had a forelock, a regular antique forelock, which he used to touch with the greatest humility. There was a long bough of an elm hanging over one gable just like the forelock.
I hesitated a moment, but a voice within me seemed to tell me that I could do no better; the sea was near, and I could not swim, so I determined to fling myself into the sea. As I was running along at great speed, in the direction of a lofty rock, which beetled over the waters, I suddenly felt myself seized by the coat.
It rose to a tower room in the midst, and before the front there stretched a plateau whereon stood a flagstaff and spar, from the point of which fluttered a red ensign. Behind the house opened a narrow coomb and descended a road to the dwelling. Cliffs beetled round about it and the summer waves broke idly below and strung the land with a necklace of pearl.
This time no uniformed guards went along. There was just the driver, Domber, and Stan. Stan was beginning to get the idea that the Dutch Quisling disliked the military. But he was not fooled into thinking Domber did not have his own henchmen. The driver of the car was a powerful fellow with beetled brows and scowling face.
The pale moon, which had hitherto been contending with flitting clouds, now shone out, and gave them a view of the solitary and naked tower, situated on a projecting cliff that beetled on the German Ocean.
I hesitated a moment, but a voice within me seemed to tell me that I could do no better; the sea was near, and I could not swim, so I determined to fling myself into the sea. As I was running along at great speed, in the direction of a lofty rock, which beetled over the waters, I suddenly felt myself seized by the coat.
Flashed the white robe along the air, And from the tower that beetled there She sprang into the wave; Roused from his throne beneath the waste, Those holy forms the god embraced A god himself their grave! Pleased with his prey, he glides along More blithe the murmured music seems, A gush from unexhausted urns His everlasting streams!
Here is Soult, with his dogged look and beetled brow; there stands Balzac the author, his gains here are less derived from the betting than the bettors; he is evidently making his own of some of them, while in the seeming bon hommie of his careless manners and easy abandon, they scruple not to trust him with anecdotes and traits, that from the crucible of his fiery imagination come forth, like the purified gold from the furnace.
The very sea-birds, which I startled in my descent, wheeled round my head, piercing the air with their shrill cries, and as if impatient for a prey. Above my head the frowning cliff beetled darkly; below, a depth unfathomable seemed to stretch, from whose black abyss arose the wild sounds of beating waves.
I hesitated a moment, but a voice within me seemed to tell me that I could do no better; the sea was near, and I could not swim, so I determined to fling myself into the sea. As I was running along at great speed, in the direction of a lofty rock, which beetled over the waters, I suddenly felt myself seized by the coat.
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