Will the gods never cease their persecution?
The overcoat is dropped, and, with one of his feet, Pompey stepped
upon the long and trailing skirt of the overcoat. He stumbled and
fell- this consequence was inevitable. He fell forward, and, with
his accursed head, striking me full in the- in the breast,
precipitated me headlong, together with himself, upon the hard,
filthy, and detestable floor of the belfry. But my revenge was sure,
sudden, and complete. Seizing him furiously by the wool with both
hands, I tore out a vast quantity of black, and crisp, and curling
material, and tossed it from me with every manifestation of disdain.
It fell among the ropes of the belfry and remained. Pompey arose,
and said no word. But he regarded me piteously with his large eyes
and- sighed. Ye Gods- that sigh! It sunk into my heart. And the
hair- the wool! Could I have reached that wool I would have bathed
it with my tears, in testimony of regret. But alas! it was now far
beyond my grasp. As it dangled among the cordage of the bell, I
fancied it alive. I fancied that it stood on end with indignation.
Thus the happy-dandy Flos Aeris of Java bears, it is said, a beautiful
flower, which will live when pulled up by the roots. The natives
suspend it by a cord from the ceiling and enjoy its fragrance for
years.
Our quarrel was now made up, and we looked about the room for an
aperture through which to survey the city of Edina.
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