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In my time there was a very meek and mild prisoner who spent a whole year in prison always reading his Bible on the stove at night and he read himself crazy, and so crazy, do you know, that one day, apropos of nothing, he seized a brick and flung it at the governor; though he had done him no harm. And the way he threw it too: aimed it a yard on one side on purpose, for fear of hurting him.
He glanced at the place Carrie indicated, started, and then looked straight in front. "How did you get the thing?" he asked after a moment or two. "Mother bought some old paper for packing. She took this piece just now to light the stove and saw the notice. But are you the man they want?" "Yes," said Jim, quietly. "Franklin Dearham was my father."
Felix looked round him with eyes of despair. Close beside him, just behind the stove, was the door of a closet. He took two strides, and before he or she had thought of the consequences, he was in the closet. Softly he drew the door to again; and she sank terrified on a chair, as the door of the room opened. He who came in was not her father but a man of thirty-five, a stranger to her.
In the mirror hanging there I looked like a Senegalese. Then, finding myself unhurt, I laughed and laughed at myself, at the grotesqueness and irony of life, at everything ... but mostly at myself. I righted the stove as best I could, brought the door in again from where it had bitten to the bottom of the snow drift, like an angry animal.
She knew where the medicine-chest stood, at the rear of the room beyond the stove, and thither, by the legs, she dragged the struggling man. As the spasm passed he began, very faint and very sick, to overhaul the chest. He had seen dogs die exhibiting symptoms similar to his own, and he knew what should be done.
"Light a fire in the stove, bring all the blankets you can find, and make some strong coffee. I have been waiting for this, the marvel is it hasn't happened before," he said brusquely. And as the woman hurried away with surprising meekness to do his bidding he turned again to Craven. "Friend of Mrs. Craven's?" he asked with blunt directness. "Pity her friends haven't looked her up sooner.
She remembered herself in a moment, withdrew her head from his shoulder, pressed back his hands, which struggled to hold her, and seated herself on a low stool at the opposite side of the little stove. "It's all over, dear Jim," she said. "I do love you, I don't deny it; but I must say 'no' to-night."
Often Maria did very well in the "Dental Parlors." McTeague was continually breaking things which he was too stupid to have mended; for him anything that was broken was lost. Now it was a cuspidor, now a fire-shovel for the little stove, now a China shaving mug. "Got any junk?" "I don't know I don't remember," muttered McTeague.
She was stirring something on the stove, holding her dress aside with one hand. "It's goin' to be a fine Christmas, Emarine," he said, and sighed unconsciously. There was a wistful and careworn look on his face. "Beautiful!" said Emarine vivaciously. "Goin' down-town, Orville?" "Yes." Want anything?" "Why, the cranberries ain't come yet. I'm so uneasy about 'em.
As the serpent prince of the outer darkness, he retains the old characteristics of Vritra, Ahi, Typhon, and Echidna. As the black dog which appears behind the stove in Dr. Faust's study, he is the classic hell-hound Kerberos, the Vedic Carvara. From the sylvan deity Pan he gets his goat-like body, his horns and cloven hoofs.
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