The wild evil of the Spanish contrabandistas seems atoned
by that wildness; but this dull wickedness has no flush of colour, no
poppy on its dirt heaps.
Over one barrow the sailors had fixed up a tent--canvas stretched from
corner poles, two fellows sat almost on the shafts outside; they were
well. Under the canvas there lay a young fellow white and emaciated,
whose face was drawn down with severe suffering of some kind, and his
dark eyes, enlarged and accentuated, looked as if touched with
belladonna. The family council at home in the close and fetid court had
resolved themselves into a medical board and ordered him to the sunny
Riviera. The ship having been fitted up for the invalid, away they sailed
for the south, out from the ends of the earth of London into the ocean of
green fields and trees, thence past many an island village, and so to the
shores where the Kentish hops were yellowing fast for the pickers. There,
in the vintage days, doubtless he found solace, and possibly recovery. To
catch a glimpse of that dark and cavernous eye under the shade of the
travelling tent reminded me of the eyes of the wounded in the
ambulance-waggons that came pouring into Brussels after Sedan.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314