"--I won't touch the
thing,--she said.---He was a horrid man to talk so: and he had as many
wives as Blue-Beard.
--Fair play,--said the Master.---Bring me the book, my little fractional
superfluity,--I mean you, my nursling,--my boy, if that suits your small
Highness better.
The Boy brought the book.
The old Master, not unfamiliar with the great epic opened pretty nearly
to the place, and very soon found the passage: He read, aloud with grand
scholastic intonation and in a deep voice that silenced the table as if a
prophet had just uttered Thus saith the Lord:--
"So spake our sire, and by his countenance seemed
Entering on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve
Perceiving--"
went to water her geraniums, to make a short story of it, and left the
two "conversationists," to wit, the angel Raphael and the
gentleman,--there was but one gentleman in society then, you know,--to
talk it out.
"Yet went she not, as not with such discourse
Delighted, or not capable her ear
Of what was high; such pleasure she reserved,
Adam relating, she sole auditress;
Her husband the relater she preferred
Before the angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather; he she knew would intermix
Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute
With conjugal caresses: from his lips
Not words alone pleased her.
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