"Oh, please, I don't understand," said Trana, "I want to go away."
"Yes, yes," said Bonaparte, leaning back in his chair, to her great relief,
and pressing his hands on his heart, "since first thy amethystine
countenance was impressed here--what have I not suffered, what have I not
felt? Oh, the pangs unspoken, burning as an ardent coal in a fiery and
uncontaminated bosom!" said Bonaparte, bending forward again.
"Dear Lord!" said Trana to herself, "how foolish I have been! The old man
has a pain in his stomach, and now, as my aunt is out, he has come to me to
help him."
She smiled kindly at Bonaparte, and pushing past him, went to the bedroom,
quickly returning with a bottle of red drops in her hand.
"They are very good for benauwdheid; my mother always drinks them," she
said, holding the bottle out.
The face in the trap-door was a fiery red. Like a tiger-cat ready to
spring. Tant Sannie crouched, with the shoulder of mutton in her hand.
Exactly beneath her stood Bonaparte. She rose and clasped with both arms
the barrel of salt meat.
"What, rose of the desert, nightingale of the colony, that with thine
amorous lay whilest the lonesome night!" cried Bonaparte, seizing the hand
that held the vonlicsense. Nay, struggle not! Fly as a stricken fawn into
the arms that would embrace thee, thou--"
Here a stream of cold pickle-water, heavy with ribs and shoulders,
descending on his head abruptly terminated his speech.
Pages:
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158