She
Put It Into My Hand; - It Was Pretty; And I Held It Ten Minutes With
The Back Of My Hand Resting Upon Her Lap - Looking Sometimes At The
Purse, Sometimes On One Side Of It.
A stitch or two had broke out in the gathers of my stock; the fair
fille de chambre, without saying a word, took out her little
housewife, threaded a small needle, and sew'd it up.
- I foresaw it
would hazard the glory of the day; and, as she pass'd her hand in
silence across and across my neck in the manoeuvre, I felt the
laurels shake which fancy had wreath'd about my head.
A strap had given way in her walk, and the buckle of her shoe was
just falling off. - See, said the fille de chambre, holding up her
foot. - I could not, for my soul but fasten the buckle in return,
and putting in the strap, - and lifting up the other foot with it,
when I had done, to see both were right, - in doing it too suddenly,
it unavoidably threw the fair fille de chambre off her centre, - and
then -
THE CONQUEST.
Yes, - and then -. Ye whose clay-cold heads and luke-warm hearts
can argue down or mask your passions, tell me, what trespass is it
that man should have them? or how his spirit stands answerable to
the Father of spirits but for his conduct under them?
If Nature has so wove her web of kindness, that some threads of
love and desire are entangled with the piece, - must the whole web
be rent in drawing them out?
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