At first Farina had been deaf to them. His heart was in the dungeon with
Margarita, or with the Goshawk in his dangers, forming a thousand
desperate plans, among the red-hot ploughshares of desperate action.
Finally, without a sense of being wooed, it was won. The tenderness of
his love then mastered him.
'God will not suffer that fair head to come to harm!' he thought, and
with the thought a load fell off his breast.
He paced the meadows, and patted the three pasturing steeds.
Involuntarily his sight grew on the moon. She went so slowly. She seemed
not to move at all. A little wing of vapour flew toward her; it whitened,
passed, and the moon was slower than before. Oh! were the heavens
delaying their march to look on this iniquity? Again and again he cried,
'Patience, it is not time!' He flung himself on the grass. The next
moment he climbed the heights, and was peering at the mass of gloom that
fronted the sky. It reared such a mailed head of menace, that his heart
was seized with a quivering, as though it had been struck.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148