ue, one should have
now and then permission to print them. Especially feminine dialogue
referring to matters of the uncertain heart takes assistance from troops
of dots; and not to understand them at least as well as words, when
words have as it were conducted us to the brink of expression, and shown
us the precipice, is to be dull, bucolic of the marketplace.

Sunless rose the morning. The blanketed figures went out to salute a
blanketed sky. Drizzling they returned, images of woefulness in
various forms, including laughter's. Alvan frankly declared himself the
disappointed showman; he had hoped for his beloved to see the sight long
loved by him of golden chariot and sun-steeds crossing the peaks and the
lakes; and his disappointment became consternation on hearing Clotilde's
English friend (after objection to his pagan clothing of the solemn
reality of sunrise, which destroyed or minimized by too materially
defining a grandeur that derived its essence from mystery, she thought)
announce the hour for her departure. He promised her a positive sunrise
if she would delay. Her child lay recovering from an illness in the
town below, and she could not stay. But Clotilde had coughed in the damp
morning air, and it would, he urged, be dangerous for her to be exposed
to it. Had not the lady heard her cough? She had, but personally she
was obliged to go; with her child lying ill she could not remain. 'But,
madam, do you hear that cough again? Will you drag her out with such a
cough as that?' The lady repeated 'My child!' Clotilde said it had
been agreed they should descend this day; her friend must be beside
her child. Alvan thundered an 'Impossible!' The child was recovering;
Clotilde was running into danger: he argued with the senseless woman,
opposing reason to the feminine sentiment of the maternal, and of course
he was beaten. He was compelled to sit and gnaw his eloquence. Clotilde
likened his appearance to a strangled roar. 'Mothers and their
children are too much for me!' he said, penitent for his betrayal of
over-urgency, as he helped to wrap her warmly, and counselled her very
mode of breathing in the raw mountain atmosphere.

'I admire you for knowing when to yield,' said she.

He groaned, with frown and laugh: 'You know what I would beg!'

She implored him to have some faith in her.

The missiles of the impassioned were discharged at the poor English: a
customary volley in most places where they intrude after qui