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But it wasn't for her alone that you gave him the drubbing?" "That is, what do you mea, not for her alone? For whom then?" asked Foma, amazed. "For whom? I don't know. Evidently you had old accounts to settle! Oh Lord! That was a scene! I shall not forget it in all my life!" "He that man who is he?" asked Foma, and suddenly burst out laughing. "How he roared, the fool!"
Then queenie thinks: That's only fair, She couldn't well refuse. But if the friend should try to show The queen her faults, look out! She'd break the friendship at a blow And straightway turn about. Mea had been obliged to laugh a little at first at the description of the humble behaviour which did not seem to describe her very well. Finally, however, sad memories rose up in her.
During the foregoing conversation she had repeatedly glanced towards the little garden gate to see if Bruno was not coming, but he could not be seen yet. So she began to set the table with Mea, while Lippo, too, assisted her. The little boy knew exactly where everything belonged.
Hubert could not resist that pleading tone in which the sire seemed to ask release from his own delusion. He went with determined step, and stood on the indicated spot. "He is gone. He fled before thee. The omen is good. Thou shalt deliver thy sire let us pray together." Domine labia mea aperies Et os meum annuntiabit laudem Tuam.
When, with face still averted, she was repeating between her sobs the MEA CULPA of childish penitence that "she'd be good, she didn't mean to," etc., it came to him to ask her why she had left Sabbath school. Why had she left the Sabbath school? why? Oh, yes. What did he tell her that God hated her for? If God hated her, what did she want to go to Sabbath school for?
Mea was crying excitedly, "Oh, mother, you must help us. You have to write to the ladies that they mustn't come. Please don't let Leonore go!" Bruno remarked passionately that no one had the right to drag a sick person on a journey against the doctor's wishes. The doctor had said the last time he had been here that Leonore was to have not less than a month for her complete recovery.
But the scar was there on her forehead the scar I put there. I've got a scar of my own too. It doesn't show on the surface but it is there for all that and always will be. I shan't talk about it but I'll never forget as long as I live that part of the debt she paid was mine. It is mea culpa for me always so far as she is concerned. "Her grandfather arrived while I was there.
"This child of sin and misfortune? Why, it was because he was on that train that all those pure and good people had to die! Oh, accursed was the hour of his birth! No, no; he is not accursed. I I, his mother, that gave birth to him, I am guilty! He is innocent; he could not help it. Oh, mea culpa! mea culpa!"
No old age can be so decrepid in a man who has passed his life in honour, but it must be venerable, especially to his children, whose soul he must have trained up to their duty by reason, not by necessity and the need they have of him, nor by harshness and compulsion: "Et errat longe mea quidem sententia Qui imperium credat esse gravius, aut stabilius, Vi quod fit, quam illud, quod amicitia adjungitur."
It is one thing to go by constraint, and another to delight in such a necessity. She felt guilty, unworthy, and ruined. Despair swept her away, and she wanted to weep. Had she been alone, she would have knelt down and beaten her breast, saying, "Mea culpa! mea culpa!" Acte, taking her hand at that moment, led her through the interior apartments to the grand triclinium, where the feast was to be.
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