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Updated: June 2, 2025
She finds me more gloomy, more Giaour-like, more Lara-like than usual; I am her hero, her god! or rather her demon, for she has now taken to the sorceries of the satanic school! I assure you that she annoys me inexpressibly, and yet I feel a sort of pleasure in being admired by her. It consoles my vanity for Louise's disdain, but not my heart. Alas! my poor heart, which still bleeds and suffers.
The two ladies looked up at the doctor with some alarm, but they need not have feared a quarrel, for the missionary smiled gently. "I'm terribly sorry you should think that of me, Dr Macphail. Believe me, my heart bleeds for that unfortunate woman, but I'm only trying to do my duty." The doctor made no answer. He looked out of the window sullenly.
"I see its leaders go astray, and its teachers deceiving it. My heart bleeds with grief. The strings of my lyre groan, my song is a lament. "Since that day I sing no more of joy and solace; I hope no more for the light, I wait no more for liberty. I sing only of bitter days, I foretell everlasting slavery, degradation, and no end.
This same mutton, however my heart bleeds to say it disappeared the day after it was sent to us. Abraham the cook declares that he locked the door of the safe upon it, which I think may be true, but I also think he unlocked it again.
Think that's what made her burst?" "Of course it was, Jem." "Bad job; but it's done, and we've got the cutlash and spears. Which are you going to use?" "The spear. No; the cutlass, Jem." "Bravo, my lad! Phew! How my hand bleeds." "I'm afraid we shall be beaten, Jem." "I'm sure of it, my lad. My right hand, too; I can't hit with it. Wish we was all going to run away now." "Do you, Jem?"
His own heart, he says, bleeds and his pen quakes to write what must be written of the falsehood of Cressid, which was her doom. Chaucer's nature, however tried, was unmistakeably one gifted with the blessed power of easy self-recovery.
But by dint of patience, skill and vigilance . . . have I not already carried a fortress by storm Stephane's heart? No, I do not despair of success. But it will cost me dear, this success that I hope for! To see him leave this house, to be separated from him forever! At the very thought my heart bleeds. August 16th. Doctor Vladimir will leave us during the early part of next month.
Do we not know, dear old lady, whose heart still bleeds, that at the bottom of your wardrobe, behind your jewels, beside packets of yellow letters, the handwriting of which we will not guess at, there is a little museum of sacred relics the last shoes in which he played about on the gravel the day he complained of being cold, the remains of some broken toys, a dried sprig of box, a little cap, his last, in a triple wrapper, and a thousand trifles that are a world to you, poor woman, that are the fragments of your broken heart?
Here, let's look at you. Oh, you ain't much marked, only your nose bleeds a bit. That's where you ought to have hit him." "I did try to," I said despondently; "but he wouldn't let me." "Never mind, put on your things. I say, are my eyes swollen?" "One of them's puffed up a bit, and your lip's cut like mine is." "Never mind. Come and have a wash." "Shan't you lock up your museum?" "Not now.
It was a cold, austere gaze, without one touch of softness. "After all," said she, "he was my father. You had your vengeance to take, and you have taken it. You may now exult, but my heart bleeds." Brandon started to his feet. "As God lives," he cried, "I did not do that thing!" Beatrice looked up mournfully and inquiringly.
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