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Updated: May 22, 2025
I must be going, though. Good-bye, old fellow! Take care of yourself good men are scarce. Good-bye, Miss Christian! Good-bye, all! Good-bye, Phil! God bless you!" With that he went roaring down the stairs, but came thunging up again in a moment, put his head round the doorpost, and said "Lord bless my soul, if I wasn't forgetting an important bit of news very important news, too!
At the head of the staircase, whence a bare passage ran, north and south, the procession turned right- handed, and, passing two doors, halted before the third and last, which faced them at the end of the passage. The lieutenant unlocked it with a key which he took from a hook beside the doorpost. Then, holding up his light, he invited his charge to enter.
M. de Boiscoran looked around him like a man who has suddenly been seized with vertigo, pale, as if all his blood had rushed to his heart. He saw nothing but mournful, dismayed faces. Anthony, his old trusted servant, was leaning against the doorpost, as if he feared to fall. The clerk was mending his pen in the air, overcome with amazement. M. Daubigeon hung his head.
"Very well then, Cainey Ball to be under-shepherd And you quite understand your duties? you I mean, Gabriel Oak?" "Quite well, I thank you Miss Everdene." said Shepard Oak from the doorpost. "If I don't, I'll inquire." Gabriel was rather staggered by the remark- able coolness of her manner.
At the same instant, a thin streak of candle-light flashed on him through the narrow chink between the hardly-closed door and the doorpost. It increased rapidly in intensity, as the sound of softly-advancing footsteps now grew more and more distinct from the stone passage leading to the interior of the house.
The fisherman and his wife stood aghast on the doorstep, holding on fast by the doorpost, while the foam splashed over their faces. 'Did I not tell thee that there is no luck in Sunday fishing? said Matte sulkily; and his wife was so frightened that she never even once thought of Ahti's cows. As there was nothing to be done, they went in.
To-morrow I'll show you the bullet hole in the doorpost. An' some of my gray hairs that 're stickin' in it!" "Dad!" ejaculated Jean, with a hand outstretched. "That's awful! You frighten me." "No time to be scared," replied his father, calmly. "They're shore goin' to kill me. That's why I wanted you home.... In there with you, now! Go to sleep.
"Young Cain Ball is a very good lad," Henery said, "and Shepherd Oak don't mind his youth?" he added, turning with an apologetic smile to the shepherd, who had just appeared on the scene, and was now leaning against the doorpost with his arms folded. "No, I don't mind that," said Gabriel. "How did Cain come by such a name?" asked Bathsheba.
If you would do us the favour! There are so many people and no place left it is really dreadful!" And he indicated a short figure in a light overcoat and a straw hat. I consented, and my chance companion followed me. Unlocking the little padlock on my door, I was always, whether I wanted to or not, obliged to look at the picture that hung on the doorpost on a level with my face.
A guide took us along the front line, which had been considerably advanced here in August and September, and again by a successful local attack a few days before. We went down one Caverna in which, on the occasion of this last attack, a Magyar officer and 25 men surrendered. The Austrian sentry, also a Magyar, had been fastened by the leg to the doorpost outside the entrance to the dug-out.
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