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Updated: June 3, 2025
M. Étienne hung his lute over his neck and strummed it; and whenever we passed under a window whence leaned a pretty head, he sang snatches of love-songs. We were alone in the dark streets of a hostile city, bound for the house of a mighty foe; and one of us was wounded and one a tyro.
Sumichrast stood by, laughing most heartily; but his merriment increased on seeing l'Encuerado's gambols, for never before had such wonderful capers been cut. He sang, strummed on his guitar, and danced often doing all three at the same time. About ten o'clock, Lucien retired to rest. The fatigues of the day, in spite of the noise of the guitar and the songs, soon sent him to sleep.
"Yes, she was going to eat me," declared Michel Pensonneau. "After she finished Monsieur Louizon, she got through the window to carry me off." Michel enjoyed the windigo. Though he strummed on his lip and mourned aloud whenever Madame Cadotte was by, he felt so comfortably full of food and horror, and so important with his story, that life threatened him with nothing worse than satiety.
There had been a tension in the negro's voice that had made everyone stop talking. The soldiers looked at him curiously. "How de Titanic ran in dat cole iceberg, How de Titanic ran in dat cole iceberg Sailin' on de sea." His voice was confidential and soft, and the guitar strummed to the same sobbing rag-time. Verse after verse the voice grew louder and the strumming faster.
Suddenly she found that she was dancing to music! not the laboriously strummed notes of a piano, such as were beaten out by the firm-striding Miss Brown; not the clamorous, deafening, tuneless efforts of an orchestra. This was real music inviting, inspiring, heavenly! It was a hand-organ! She halted, spell-bound.
Swinburne had strummed the skies with every kind of song, and Verlaine had whispered every secret of the senses there was, in the land of illusion and vaguery. Dowson was worshipper of them both, for it was sound first and last that he cared most for, the musical mastery of the one and the sentimentality of the other. He was far nearer Verlaine in type.
He was silent for a minute or two; then, quitting his chair, asked: "Had you much talk with her?" "With Cecily? We were living together, you know." "Yes, but had she much to tell you? Did she talk about how things were going with us what I was doing, and so on?" He was never still. Now he threw himself into another chair, and strummed with his fingers on the arm of it.
It was an indolent, happy life the peons on the estate led, patriarchal in its nature, and far removed from the throb of the money-mad world. They had enough to eat and to wear. There was a roof over their heads. There were girls to be loved, dances to be danced, and guitars to be strummed.
If they had needed explanation it would have been given by the announcement in the office of the hotel that a troupe of British blondes was then appearing in Quebec for one week only. After dinner they took possession of the parlor, and while one strummed fitfully upon the ailing hotel piano, the rest talked, and talked shop, of course, as all of us do when several of a trade are got together.
For a half-hour there was peaceful converse; of the adventure which had brought the two gringos to the ranch as to a sanctuary, of the land which lay before them, and of the unsettled conditions that filled the days with violence. José still strummed softly upon the guitar, a pleasant undertone to the voices.
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