The buboes broke and God took Lucia's mother. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. ‘Bring her to me and we shall see. Answering him
was agonizing. She was gone. Was it that the struggle of things to survive produced as a sort of necessary byproduct these intense preferences and appreciations, or was it that some mystical
outer thing, some great force, drove life beautyward, even in spite of expediency,
regardless of survival value and all the manifest discretions of life? She went to
Capes with that riddle and put it to him very carefully and clearly, and he talked
well—he always talked at some length when she took a difficulty to him—and
sent her to a various literature upon the markings of butterflies, the
incomprehensible elaboration and splendor of birds of Paradise and hummingbirds’ plumes, the patterning of tigers, and a leopard’s spots. While he was
meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an
old broken and rusty fork. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice
into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by
flogging her back with a switch. It is not you who runs the risk of
going dinnerless to-morrow. ”
Her breath left her for a moment.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 04-07-2024 17:23:34