But now arose a wild cry of wrath and revenge and
rescue. A universal hiss of steel, as every sword was swept from
its scabbard, seemed to tear the very air in shreds. I heard the
rush of hundreds towards the platform on which I knelt. I only
tightened my grasp of the brute's throat. His eyes were already
starting from his head, and his tongue was hanging out. My
anxious hope was, that, even after they had killed me, they would
be unable to undo my gripe of his throat, before the monster was
past breathing. I therefore threw all my will, and force, and
purpose, into the grasping hand. I remember no blow. A
faintness came over me, and my consciousness departed.
CHAPTER XXIV
"We are ne'er like angels till our passions die."
DEKKER.
"This wretched INN, where we scarce stay to bait,
We call our DWELLING-PLACE:
We call one STEP A RACE:
But angels in their full enlightened state,
Angels, who LIVE, and know what 'tis to BE,
Who all the nonsense of our language see,
Who speak THINGS, and our WORDS,their ill-drawn
PICTURES, scorn,
When we, by a foolish figure, say,
BEHOLD AN OLD MAN DEAD! then they
Speak properly, and cry, BEHOLD A MAN-CHILD BORN!"
COWLEY.
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