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Updated: May 22, 2025
And while she sat there in bed threshing out this fear to find the grain, Cutty was tramping the streets of Washington, her telegram crumpled in his hand. From time to time he would open it and reread it under a street lamp. To marry her and then to cheat her. It wasn't humanly possible to marry her and then to let her go.
But he did not smile once as he read and reread the odd little mosaic, and folded it at last and put it away in a pigeonhole of its own. No, his stabbing thought was only, Why didn't I do it all long ago?... Why?... And similar things he thought next morning, and the next and next. Her morning temperature shot up a degree again, and there it stood day after day, and would not go down.
Whatever it accomplished, he would have accomplished; the rewards the understanding gratitude of his fellow archaeologists the world over would be his, and his alone. He sat there in his room and read and reread the letter. The terms in which the offer had been made were gratifying in the extreme. The confidence in his ability and scientific knowledge were expressed without stint.
"Probably," he said, "he will write me a charming poem to explain why he cannot do what I ask. I know the tricks of your tribe." With a final laugh and a clasp of the hands the friends parted company. Maecenas went back to his library to reread dispatches from Spain before seeking his few hours of sleep.
His old blue eyes skipped nimbly behind the glasses that saddled the tip of his plump pink nose, and the old judge read it just such a letter as he himself had received many a time; just such a wartime letter as uncounted thousands of soldiers North and South received from their sweethearts and read and reread by the light of flickering campfires and carried afterward in their knapsacks through weary miles of marching.
When he had read on through to the last ink-smudged line he would reread the accounts of those matters which particularly attracted him on their first reading. Then reluctantly and still in his state of absorption, he would put the paper aside and going inside to a small desk would write his daily chapter in a bulky letter, the whole to be posted on the next steamer day.
It is recopied. Other hands have gone over it. So, the thing is no longer mine. It does not exist any longer, good night. I have taken up again my old hobby of Saint Antoine. I have reread my notes, I am making another new plan and I am devouring the ecclesiastical memoirs of the Nain de Tillemont. This extravagant setting pleases me and I am absorbed in it, there you are!
As you will see, I was unable to end my letter without a touch of impertinent irony, which proved how much in love I still was. I read and reread this letter ten times over; then the thought of the pain it would give to Marguerite calmed me a little.
While most of those who have accepted the theory of imitation-they cannot have reread the Idylls and the Song as wholes to persist in such a theory-have contended that Theocritus borrowed from Canticles, Graetz is convinced that the Hebrew poet must have known and imitated the Greek idyllist.
Take up your customary life again as though it had never been interrupted, as though nothing had happened since the night of December 31st." Frederick-Christian, the victim of a racking headache, read and reread these strange mysterious words, without in the least understanding their meaning.
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