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Updated: June 29, 2025
If you make your summer tour through the States of New England, and stop to visit its priggish little colleges, and biggish little schools, you shall find it on many a sophister's table, and in many a schoolboy's hands; or, ten to one, as you pass the windows of the barracks where they keep their terms, you will chance to hear some full-voiced youth adding a nasal rhetoric to Maga's pages, as he retails them, through clouds of cigar-smoke, to his assembled companions.
If they doubt it, just tell them what happened with me the other day, and what I vouch for as fairly exhibiting the feeling of the most intelligent Americans. I could add many other anecdotes of the same colour and character; but I tell this as creditable to them, and illustrative of Maga's footing among them:
"Yes!" snapped Kagig suddenly. "You, Maga!" Maga's and Kagig's eyes met, and again he had his way with her instantly. Peter Measel, standing over by the door, looked wistful and sighed noisily. "Why should you obey him?" he demanded, but Maga ignored him as she passed out, and Fred nudged me again. "A miracle!" he whispered. "Did you hear the martyred biped suggest rebellion to her?
Dog eateth dog and none gives thanks; All crave the fare, but grudge the price Their nobler forbears proudly paid, That now for moonstruck madness ranks The only true coin Sacrifice! The man who is a hero to himself perhaps exists, but the surface indications are no proof of it. I don't pretend to be satisfied, and made no pretense at the time of being satisfied with my share in Maga's treachery.
You have heard me say what I will do! As for that Rustum Khan you shall never see him no more ever!" Kagig pulled out the enormous watch again. He seemed oblivious of Maga's threats not even aware that she had spoken, although she was hissing through impudent dazzling teeth within three yards of him. "The time," he said, "has fleed has fled has flown. Now we must go, effendi!"
He talks to me of Maga's desertion of principle; but if he were a Christian nay, a man his heart and head too would tell him that the Animosities are mortal, but the Humanities live for ever and that Leigh Hunt has more talent in his little finger than the puling prig, who has taken upon himself to lecture Christopher North in a scrawl crawling with forgotten falsehoods. Mr.
Maga, like Italy, ought to be less bewitching, or better defended. What would not some of Maga's cotemporaries give, nevertheless, for the compliment of being perpetually ravished by the Goths and Vandals of Letters the merciless anti-copyright booksellers of America? Nay they will pout at the insinuation, and stand upon the virtue which no one believes they possess.
What happened after that was almost too quick for the senses to take in. One of the gipsies came suddenly to life and seized me by the neck. The other grasped my feet, and as I fell I saw the third man slash loose Maga's thongs and help her up. My two assailants rolled me over on my back, and while one held me the other aimed blows at my head with the butt of his empty pistol.
But I saw who she was in time, and sheathed my steel again, and cursed her for the gipsy that she half is. The other half is spawn of Eblis!" A hundred yards ahead of us Kagig had reached a decision, but it seemed to be not too late yet in Maga's judgment to try to convert him. She was speaking vehemently, passionately, throwing down her reins to expostulate with both hands.
Kagig's finger-joints cracked harder than ever as his quick mind reviewed the possibilities. "Have you any idea what can have happened to Miss Vanderman?" I asked him. "Miss Vanderman? No? What? Tell me!" He seemed astonished, and I told him slowly, lest he miss one grain of the enormity of Maga's crime.
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